


Read The Room

by inarizakillme



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A lot of biting, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Angst, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, i made suna sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inarizakillme/pseuds/inarizakillme
Summary: “I can’t do this.” he stammers. Suna stops, and frowns.“Do what?”“Um, this,” he points back and forth between them, “us, kissing, and stuff.”Suna releases his hands, “huh, did I read the room wrong then?”or; Osamu feels guilt weighing in his chest if he ever possesses romantic love, but Suna comes unexpectedly.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 9
Kudos: 65
Collections: SunaOsa, SunaOsa Valentine's Exchange





	Read The Room

**Author's Note:**

> A Valentines gift for Frog!
> 
> I hope they like this (I am a fan of their work so this was _nerve wracking_ , I might've miscalculated and went too far lmao.

Sweet.

Slightly tart, a tinge of lemon, but sweet.

Like an amalgamation of dew drops in the early spring morning where butterflies flutter freely in the cool, crisp air, blazing sun rays heating the soaked land after a heavy storm, light streaming through the breaking dark clouds. Two completely different conditions, but two thoroughly enjoyed nonetheless.

A robustful blend of two flavours, with others that awaits to be discovered, to be awakened by his senses. Oh, a faint nutty flavour, perhaps a blend of cashews into the lemony delicacy. Interesting, but welcoming. It’s sweet, but sharp on the tongue. Sour, but smooth when swallowed. Peanuty flavour complimenting the zesty, sugary taste dancing on his tongue. What an amazing dish, enough to make Osamu smile as he puts the spoon down on the plate, calling the waiter to give his compliments to the chef.

The best of dishes are often not solely one-dimensional in flavour, rather they boast a multifarious blend of different ingredients that all come to play to make the dish a spectacular show. Like an orchestra involving different instruments, all of different sounds and tunes, from strings to drums, to flutes and clarinets, creating a masterpiece of a melody. Truly, nothing is better than the collaboration of small things in the creation of a bigger entity, that, Osamu believes wholeheartedly.

“Give my compliments to the chef, this dessert is amazingly delicious. The use of cashews in the crust is a wonderful addition to the lemon filling.” Osamu said, wiping his mouth with the handkerchief, ready to leave the table. The waitress nods, more than happy to pass the praise from a customer. Nothing is better to a chef than patrons who enjoy their meals, and Osamu will gladly dish out praise to those who truly deserve it.

Miya Osamu loves his job, it’s exactly what he had imagined and dreamed of ever since he knew about food. His mother always told him that he had star eyes the moment he ate his first food as a baby. He doesn’t believe it, though it’s fun to hear in family gatherings anyway. But he loves it, everything about food and beyond. The taste, the flavour, the unique combinations and the exotic ones, it’s an adventure he’s more than willing to pour his heart and soul into.

Except, maybe, for himself.

He walks out of the restaurant, the evening sun slowly setting to a cooler violet painting the skies. He takes out his phone, capturing the sky of perfect weather on his second month in Tokyo. He’s not exactly 100% excited about the fact of moving far away from his hometown, but this is one of the steps he’ll have to take to improve his career as a food critic. It wasn’t an easy start, but he got the hang of it after two years moving around Hyogo prefecture, trying every single restaurant ever to exist from white tablecloth establishments to mom-and-pop family diners, diligently writing articles upon articles on each food he consumed into his blog, and pitching himself to various food publications. He’s made a name for himself, a pseudonym to be exact as an anonymous food critic, but nonetheless he’s quite well known in the profession. His hard work paid off big time, when a prestigious food publicator in the country offered Osamu to move to Tokyo and use his expertise there.

_“Don’t be a dumbass and reject it” Osamu rolls his eyes at his twin brother, a soft thud on the table from him placing his phone down._

_“Of course I’m not rejecting it, I’m just--”_

_“Atsumu, language!” Osamu laughs from the sound of Atsumu’s head smacked by his mother. “But unfortunately I have to agree with Tsumu, dear. It’s time for you to venture out and fly from my nest.”_

Osamu sighs, putting his phone back into his pockets, and walks home from the restaurant. Tokyo is very different from his hometown; the hustle and bustle of the city people, bright lights from billboards and neon signage polluting the sky, nothing like his Itami city at all. Two months, and yet he hasn’t fully familiarised himself with the place. It’s embarrassing, really, to be in such an amazing city full of wonder, and yet, here he is, still wearing the same jacket he received from Atsumu 5 years ago, and hair a disgusting awfully bad job of a grey hair dye.

The ringing from his phone disturbs Osamu from his thoughts, and he fishes it out from his pockets.

_Incoming call: Akaashi Keiji_

“Hello?”

 _“Ah, good evening Samu. I hope I’m not disturbing you this evening.”_ Ever the polite man, Osamu thinks.

“Nope, I just finished work and on my way home now.”

_“I see, that’s good. I called just to check up on you since your move here. Everything okay?”_

“Everything is perfect Keiji, thank you.”

 _“I hope Brie is making herself comfortable at home too.”_ Osamu chuckles, Akaashi has always loved his cat Brie.

“Don’t worry about Brie, I can bring her to the South Pole with me and she’d be okay with that.”

 _“That sounds like her”_ Osamu walks past a fish shop, and stops in front of the store.

“That reminds me, Keiji, are ya free tomorrow? I’d like to invite ya over for lunch as thanks for helping me move in last time. I’ve thought about it for a while, just never seemed to have the time to ask you. That is, if yer free tomorrow though.”

_“I’m actually free tomorrow, so lunch sounds perfect Samu.”_

Osamu smiles as he enters the fish store, “Great, see ya tomorrow.”

It’s not a requirement for food critics to be good at cooking, in fact it doesn’t even matter if they could peel an apple or not. It’s all about the tasting skill, their broad palate in terms of tastes and flavour in food. For Osamu, his way of practice is through cooking. Cooking, to him, is like dating his food, a period where he gets to know them more, as much as Atsumu finds it really weird, but it’s what he sincerely thinks it is. Getting to know the base of the dish, the spices, the ingredients, the way it cooks and how it’s made. The more he knows, the more he feels he understands what is about to be entering his mouth. He would know what to expect, he would know how to judge them, how they are instead of just the fancy plating and outward appearance. It’s a process and Osamu loves every bit of it.

“Honestly Samu, I still find it difficult how you haven’t opened your own restaurant by now. This is probably the best fish I’ve tasted in my life.” Akaashi said, stuffing another slice of his baked halibut fish. Osamu smiles, taking another sip of his wine.

“You’ve said that a hundred times before, don’t have to act like this is yer first rodeo” Akaashi laughs, wiping his mouth with a tissue paper.

Osamu is thankful for Akaashi, if it weren’t for him, he could’ve never found an amazing apartment like this. It’s almost perfect; a full view of the sky and the city, an adequate kitchen space for him to cook and a farmers market within walking distance, all within his budget. Akaashi really used his magical real estate and property powers to the max and Osamu can never be more grateful. Even Brie, his cat, loves this place. She got comfortable as soon as they moved in without any hassle or distress.

“I still can’t thank ya enough for finding this apartment, Keiji. I have no idea how to repay ya for this.” Osamu said, slightly bowing. Akaashi gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Please, it wasn’t a big deal, anyway. You’ve got lucky that this house popped out for rent the day you called me. So really, it was destiny.”

“Destiny huh, sounds like something an editor would totally say.”

“I’m a _manga_ editor, Osamu, please don’t get me more depressed than I already am.”

The both of the men enjoyed their lunch, and talked the afternoon away, catching up with one another on the humid summer day about anything and everything. They talked about Udai-san, Akaashi’s mangaka who’s exhausted from releasing a new series, Osamu’s mother and twin brother, his future restaurant visits and some of Akaashi’s recommendations too. Osamu has always found warmth in Akaashi, any time spent with him makes him at ease, relaxed. It has always been like this since university, finding pleasure in small talks and comfortable silence. Even up until now, it’s so easy to get in tune with each other again even after months of not meeting up.

“I forgot to mention, I’m seeing someone now.”

Osamu’s smiles playfully, “Oh are ya? Who’s the lucky man?”

“Very funny. I met him through a friend, and he’s really… interesting, so to speak.” Osamu takes another sip of his wine, raising his brows, encouraging him to continue. “He’s not someone I would’ve ever thought of dating. He’s loud, very animated, and bright.”

“Bright?”

“If you ever have the chance to meet him, you’ll probably understand what I mean.” Akaashi smiles, wiping his mouth with a tissue. “His name is Bokuto, he’s a firefighter.”

“Holy.”

“I know right? Man, to think after a year of not dating anyone, I’d end up with someone in that field out of all the people.” They both laughed, knowing how much this is different for Akaashi. Akaashi, an introvert, timid, reserved. Osamu liked that about him.

“Sounds like a celebration to me,” Osamu stands up from his seat, picking up the bottle between them and pouring into Akaashi’s glass, “so more wine.”

“It’s 2 pm.”

“And a Saturday. Cheers, to Akaashi Keiji for going out of his comfort zone.” Clinking their glasses together, they both laughed at how ridiculous that sounds, but settled into another comfortable silence again. Akaashi places his glass on the table, before asking the question Osamu dreaded the most.

“Speaking of comfort zones, what about you Samu?” Drumming his fingers on the table, “Are you seeing anybody yet?”

“I don’t think I’m ready yet to be committed into a relationship.”

“Uhuh, that’s what you said when we broke up last time though”

“And my point still stands,” Osamu shrugs, wine glass moving around in the air, “I’m still trying to up my critic game and Tokyo so far is such a challenge. I don’t have the time to be thinking about other petty things.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes, propping his chin with his hand. He’s heard this far too many times and it’s getting old. “Sure.”

“Don’t give me that tone, Keiji.”

“Samu, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. When was the last time you had any fun?” Before Osamu could answer, Akaashi held up a finger, “one that doesn’t involve your job.”

Osamu paused for a moment. When was the last time he actually had fun? All these while, his job gave him every fulfillment that he needed, he never had time to think about anything else. Food is all he needs, and working is the entertainment he gets everyday.

That’s… what he wants to say. But unfortunately, Akaashi is right. He hasn’t had fun in such a long time, and he knows the cause of it, the sole reason that is hindering him from enjoying other forms of activities, but he’s not quite ready to expose himself to his ex boyfriend.

Osamu sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Yer right, workload has been kinda heavy, I’ve been going to restaurants daily, so I just don’t have the time.” He hopes this is enough to feed Akaashi some sort of answer. Akaashi’s face softens, and smiles apologetically.

“You never change now, do you Samu.” Turning his head away towards the window, eyes looking further into the city, “But, you’re going to find a lot of surprises awaiting you in Tokyo. It’s a magical place, so open up a bit and enjoy what the city has to offer.”

After the evening sun sets, and Osamu bids goodbye to Akaashi, he straight away cleans up the table and his kitchen. Brie watches him lazily from the top of the refrigerator, meowing once in a while when Osamu puts away extra food, reaching her paws towards his hair. He laughs, picking up Brie and scratches her head.

“Why are ya touching my hair, Bwee?” Brie purrs, content with the scratches on her head. Osamu puts her down, and wipes his hand with the kitchen towel as he heads towards his bedroom. He stops abruptly in front of his mirror, looking at his hair from where Brie was touching.

His bad hair job that he’s been doing for years with his brother is starting to grow out, dark roots evidently growing longer than what he’s used to. It looks really bad, how nice of Akaashi to not mention it to him. He supposes he could retouch his roots, but Akaashi’s words stayed in his mind as he combs through his hair. Perhaps he could start having some fun, and a new hair colour is a good first step.

He reaches for his phone, and presses the number he saved in his favourites. Osamu looks down at his feet, Brie purring and plops down on his foot with all her majestic fluffness.

_“Hello?”_

Osamu stares at Brie’s collar, a brilliant shade of pink and blue. “Hey Tsumu, wanna come over and wreck each other’s hair?”

“So, explain to me again why ya suddenly want to change hair dye?” Atsumu asks, while inspecting the box hair dye they purchased from the department store. It’s a pretty colour, but still, the blonde is confused at the spontaneous idea. “Who are ya and what’ve ya done to my nerdy brother?”

“Yer one to talk, yer a lecturer.” Snatching the box from Atsumu’s hands, he rips it open and discards the items onto the table. They’ve done this a million times to know every step by heart. “Mom’s gonna be surprised though.”

“Duh, ashy blue and rose gold. That’s a very cute colour combo ya’ve picked.”

Osamu steps behind Atsumu, hands gloved and ready to apply the chemicals. The two sit silently in the small bathroom of Osamu’s apartment, with a distant jazz music from the speakers in his living room. It’s been like this since they were 15, dying each other’s hair every month or so. It’s a routine they’ve kept sacred for years, and now with them at the age of 27, they don’t ever plan on changing what they now consider a tradition. It doesn’t matter that now Osamu lives 3 hours away from Atsumu, he’ll come when they need to dye their hair together.

“I thought that maybe now I’m in a new city, might as well have a new look.” Osamu replied, combing through the mixture into Atsumu’s permed hair. Atsumu hums, watching his brother work from the mirror.

“That’s nice. It’s just a surprise since ya never do anything spontaneous like this. Even with ya moving to Tokyo it took a full week for ya to reply to the publisher.”

“It’s just hair. I don’t need to keep a professional look or whatever since I’m anonymous.” He takes the shower cap from the sink, wrapping it over Atsumu’s hair. “Thought it’d be fun.”

“Not gonna lie, I’m totally freaked out now.”

Osamu chuckles, moving to switch places with Atsumu for his turn. He understands why Atsumu is being dramatic about it, he’s never one to be doing things unplanned.

Whenever people think of Osamu, it’s always the same few characteristics; reserved, calculative, workaholic and an overthinker. He was never like that when they were younger, but that’s adulthood. They grew up, experienced many things that made their free spirited youth break and mend back, never perfect, creating a shell hard enough as armour, a wall strong enough to hide from the world. But nevertheless, he’s ambitious, and adventurous when it comes to food. He’d go over and beyond, trying things many wouldn’t dare and enjoying every bit of the risk. But never about himself.

Truth be told, Osamu is scared.

He scans his brother’s face, his twin brother who’s face eerily similar to his except for the eyes that used to cry for weeks, the eyebags that formed underneath from countless sleepless nights and the golden honey irises that lost their shine. He hates how lifeless they seem, every sparkle now dim. All because Atsumu gave his whole heart and soul away too soon for who he thought was the love of his life, took it and shattered it to a million pieces in every excruciating way possible.

Osamu was there throughout the whole thing; from highschool sweethearts, their dates, their marriage, the fights, the crying and running away from their house and their inevitable divorce. It was painful to watch his brother crumbling to almost madness, losing sight to who he was. Osamu was there, and Osamu stayed. It’s been a few years now, and Atsumu is back on his feet, but the traumatic experience still lingers in both Atsumu and Osamu’s hearts.

And the very reason why Osamu could never commit to a relationship. Ever.

Dating Akaashi Keiji was him testing if he could be in love with another person after his brother’s incident, but it wasn’t a surprise that he ended it only after a few months. Fortunately for Osamu, Akaashi understands and takes it well, saying how he cherishes their friendship so it would be a waste if they part just because of this. Akaashi is truly wonderful, but alas, he just couldn’t get over the fear and guilt of him being in love with anyone else. Not when his brother faced such suffering and is still in the midst of recovering because of love.

“Are ya okay, Tsumu?” Osamu asks out of the blue. He didn’t need to ask more, Atsumu would know what he meant by it. He smiles, rather plastering a forced grin on his face, before putting the cap on Osamu’s head.

“Honestly, I should be askin’ ya that question instead.” He chuckles, getting ready to apply dye onto his roots, “Don’t worry about me.”

Atsumu claims that, but how could Osamu be when he hasn't seen his twin brother the same, energetic, obnoxious and annoying person as he used to be? It pains him, but he respects his brother’s slow, but moving, road to recovery. It’s excruciatingly slow for Osamu’s likings though.

After the timer sets off, they wash their hair and blow dry them. The new look suits them a lot, albeit rather youthful for their age. Atsumu beams at how pretty the colour makes his eyes look, and proceeds to take several selfies before pulling Osamu into the frame as well. He has to admit, the new colour is really appealing, and he loves the colour blue anyway. He slings an arm around Atsumu and poses for the camera.

Monday evening, and the restaurant of the day is packed with dinner reservations, which is expected from a reputable establishment in the city. He waits patiently as the server scrolls through her ipad looking for his name, and smiles when she finds it. He notices other patrons looking at his way not-so discreetly, then he remembers his now blue dyed hair.

“Found it, Osamu-san, table for one. Right this way please.”

The restaurant in question is well-known to locals, and has made a good name in the culinary industry. Famous for their exquisite choice of fresh fish, Osamu drools thinking of the options he’ll be spoiled by tonight. As he sits down, he takes a mental note on the surroundings, the furniture and everything around him, it’s good for readers to know the ambience of the place too aside from the food. He sees several waiters and waitresses whispering to each other, and subtly taking photos from afar, but not towards him, fortunately. Osamu thinks that’s a bit unprofessional but he lets it off.

The night passes by amazingly for Osamu, the food was great as expected too, and he’s one happy man with a happy tummy. He types several notes into his phone while ignoring the continuous incoming messages from his brother, most probably to brag about his day with his new hair. Placing down his phone, Osamu calls for a waiter, other hand wiping his mouth with a napkin.

But, nobody notices him. He waves his hand for a few more seconds, even the other customers are beginning to notice Osamu’s hands in the air for quite a while. Well, this is annoying, he thinks. All the waiters and waitresses are looking at the same direction, opposite of where Osamu was seated. He follows their eyes, and,

Oh.

It's an exaggeration to say that he felt time stopped, see pigeons flying and hear angels singing, but it’s the closest to what he could explain his feelings in words.

There sits one beautiful man he’s ever laid his eyes upon; sharp eyes, chiseled jaw, shoulders broad back straight in confidence. He’s laughing, and Osamu thinks perhaps God has favourites.

He's been staring for a while, he knows because his hand in the air is starting to feel numb, but the said man made eye contact with Osamu and good god it felt like it’s piercing right through his soul. He shakes his head, puts his hand down and calls for the waiter once more, louder this time. Scrambling towards Osamu, the waiter apologises profusely and places the bill on the table.

“I’ve called probably 5 times and nobody noticed. That’s not very professional now, is it” He said, venom in his words spilling out by a bit.

“I am so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” He sighs, waving his hand to stop the waiter from bowing for the 9th time in a row. He doesn’t like being tough on waiters, but it’s his job and he takes it seriously. He grabs his items, ready to head out, but accidentally, or maybe not, Osamu isn’t so sure, he looks towards the man again, only to find the stranger is looking directly at him, smiling, waving tiny waves. Heat rushing to his face, he nods, and walks out of the restaurant as fast as he could, straight home.

No, Osamu didn’t think about him for the next few days. No he didn’t think about him when he wrote his review and made him distracted every 5 minutes. No it didn’t do anything weird to his private parts, making him slightly turned on. No he didn’t go to every website to search for him and no it didn’t drive him crazy. Of course, absolutely not. But, he couldn't really find anything, not when he could only type in “beautiful black hair man with sharp eyes” in the search engine. Osamu sighs in front of his laptop, watching Brie from his chair.

“Maybe it was a one time thing, like those things he’s seen on twitter about having airport crushes and then you never see them again, right Brie?” His cat only rolls on his bed, oblivious to Osamu’s mental breakdown. Tokyo’s really big, a population of a million just in this city, might as well just give up. He closed the search tab, and continued writing his review.

It’s been 4 days, and his review hasn’t even passed the first paragraph. 

Osamu slams his laptop shut, head in hands, groaning. This is ridiculous, he thinks. That man was a complete stranger, and he’s seen many, MANY good looking strangers throughout his career but this one sticks like gum under the sole.

Maybe a walk to the market would be a nice distraction. He feels his stomach growling, hungry from burning the midnight oil. He didn’t even realise the sun rose and it’s half past seven. He changes his pants, picks up his tote bag and walks out to the market, a list of groceries planned in his head for his morning meal.

The walk to the market has always been nice for him; almost therapeutic. He passes antique shops next to the tattoo parlour, the flower shop, and an anime store. It always amazes him how the old and the new co-exists in this city. The market was fairly empty, it’s still very empty and that means he can take his sweet time picking his options.

“Samu?”

Osamu turns around to the familiar voice, and is greeted by a familiar face and a stranger next to him. “Keiji, fancy seeing you here.”

Akaashi gives a hug, awkwardly trying to avoid Osamu’s bag of fish in his hands.

“I almost thought you were someone else, if I didn’t recognise that very worn out sweater of yours.”

“Yeah, I took yer advice and rolled with it. Tsumu has pink hair.”

“It looks nice, very different, but nice.”

“Love the hair dude” Osamu notices the stranger next to Akaashi, staring at him with big yellow eyes. And damn, he’s big.

“Samu, this is Bokuto Koutaro, I mentioned him to you last time.”

“Ah, Keiji’s boyfriend,” he notices the slight blushes on Akaashi, and Bokuto’s face, “nice to meet ya, I’m Miya Osamu.”

With a firm grip, Bokuto shakes Osamu’s hand excitedly. “I’m Bokuto! Ah man, Akaashi talked about you all the time, is it true you’re a food critic? Gosh that’s so damn cool! Kinda wished I’d be something fancy dancy but then again, my taste buds aren’t the best, everything that’s edible is good enough for me, but then again…”

Osamu raises an eyebrow towards Akaashi, not really paying attention anymore to Bokuto’s talk. And if they both could read minds, they’re both sure they’re thinking of the same thing; _you’re actually dating this dude?_ And _yes I’m actually dating this guy, who would’ve thought._

They continued the conversation at the sidewalk, the wet market getting packed as the morning sun slowly rose.

“It’s kind of rare seeing you in public on the weekday. Not working?” Osamu asks.

“Yeah, because Bokuto’s birthday is tomorrow and I’m just taking a day off to spend some time with him.”

“How romantic”

“Osamu I swear to god--”

“Ah!” Bokuto cuts them off, “Are you doing anything tonight, myaasam?” _Myaasam_?

“Nothing in particular,” One particular review that he’s too distracted to finish, but he’s not going to tell him.

“Well, me and some of my friends will be going to a bar near Ginza to celebrate tonight, it’ll be fun if you come with us!” Osamu takes note of how touchy Bokuto is with the way he’s smacking his back right now as he speaks excitedly, while his other arm constantly wraps around Akaashi’s waist, noting how he’s everything Akaashi describes him to be.

A bar eh, he hasn’t gone to a bar in a while now, he thinks, bars just don’t have good food and the drinks will always disappoint him. He, as what Atsumu points out, is a wine snob. Osamu takes pride in his choice of alcohol, and most of the time, the cheap bars offer him nothing but mediocre poison and sweet drunk liquid. He doesn’t feel like going to be honest, unsure who and how this giant fireman’s friends are, and the longer he spends time with him, he’s confident that he would be sufficiently socially drained before the night ends.

But one look in Akaashi’s eyes, he knows exactly what he’s saying.

_Give Tokyo a chance._

He sighs, “Sure, why not.”

“I’ll text you the location, it’ll be fun, I promise.” Akaashi said, a playful smile on his face.

“Sure, I can shit on their food and drinks at the same time. Win-win.”

The bar was a 20 minute ride from his apartment, and Osamu for once, didn’t feel like bailing out. The bar is filled with the recognizable scent of oak, liquor, and leather, and bursts with laughter from several patrons seated in every corner of the building. It’s familiar, but foreign from his lack of patronage. He’s early, so he takes a seat by the bar and helps himself with his favourite classic, a martini before they meet up. He’s a sucker for James Bond, and this is one of the many influences that stuck to him.

His phone buzzes a message from Akaashi as he takes a sip, the burn slowly flowing through his throat. He might as well savour it while Akaashi is on his way.

“What’s a blue haired man doing all alone in this lovely bar?”

Osamu froze, his eyes locking on the same green, sharp eyes that’s been haunting his days with the same smile that seemed to be provoking his unfinished review. What are the odds he’d be meeting him here, and fuck why does he smell so good?

“Who ever said I’m alone?”

“I don’t see anyone’s name on this seat.” 

“And who writes their name on a seat?”

“Someone who doesn’t leave a handsome man all alone, perhaps?” Osamu eyes him from the corner of his drink, heat rushing to his cheeks covered by the glass in his hand. His brain gears running at full speed, thinking hard about what the fuck he’s supposed to do now that he is right in front of him. All too sudden, he’s not entirely ready for this guy being a flirt too.

“Then would ya care to accompany said man from loneliness?” _What the actual fuck Osamu, he’s going to think you’re--_

“Thought you’d never ask.” The stranger swiftly takes a seat, calling the bartender for his order. It’s been a while since Osamu felt this way, heart palpitating, palms sweatier than usual, cheeks obviously red but not from the alcohol. This stranger is awfully hot, even for Osamu’s standards, 

“I remember you from the restaurant a few days ago, the hair colour is hard to forget” He said, grinning softly, “that, and your face too.”

Osamu suppresses a smile, “How can I forget the person who took all the attention of the servers.”

The man laughs whole heartedly, something in Osamu stirs. “Hope it didn’t interrupt your evening. Ah, a whiskey highball please. Thank you.”

There’s something so familiar with this guy, but he just couldn’t pinpoint it. 

“I assume you’re not from around here since I come here often,” He says.

“Just moved in the area for work. First time ‘ere too.” Another sip. Osamu’s nerves slowly fade thanks to the alcohol. He needed this.

The stranger’s eyebrows raise, “Is that a Kansai-ben I hear? Brings back memories, I used to go to school there.”

Osamu tilts his head towards him, curiosity gleams in his eyes, “Oh? When?”

He hums, swirling his glass, “Interested in me now?” Smiling slyly.

Osamu rolls his eyes at this stranger’s attempt at flirting, but he’s not… entirely wrong. “Only ‘bout the Kansai part,”

“Ouch, that hurts.” He dramatically clutches his heart, chuckling, “I went to Inarizaki High School. Ever heard of it?”

Inarizaki? That’s-- “Me too.”

“Must be fate, mister…?” 

“It’s Miya O--”

“Samu, sorry to keep you waitin-- oh you guys are here.”

Osamu turns to see Akaashi with Bokuto, and two men, who immediately runs and hugs the man next to him in what looks like bone-crushing tight.

“Rin-chan~ I miss you so much!” A brown haired man squishes his cheeks to the other, ruffling his hair in the process, “Working without you was so boring, nobody laughed at my jokes, Iwa-chan didn’t pick up my call, and…”

He catches Osamu looking at them, cocking an eyebrow and smirks, “and who’s this handsome man?”

Osamu blinks, confused.

“This is Osamu, the friend that I said I invited over as well?” Akaashi beams, “Osamu, these are Bokuto’s friends, Oikawa and Kuroo, but I didn’t know you and Suna-san knew each other?”

“Suna-san?” Osamu whispers, slowly turns to him, eyes wide, mirroring Suna’s expression who’s frozen in place. “Suna Rintarou?”

“Osamu?”

Osamu stares, everything clicks. Know Suna-san, Akaashi? Suna was Osamu’s first love. He was his classmate, his close friend, the boy who made him come out of the closet, the first boy he confesses to, the first boy who broke his heart. So, know him? Sure, he knows him alright.

Suna Rintarou has changed, a lot. He used to be so frail, back hunched into an arch, curtain bangs to hide himself from the world, but now he’s terribly fit, posture and hair swept back in a manner that shows off his confidence, and more handsome, definitely gotten more handsome over the years. But those eyes, the same sharp eyes that pierces his soul, that, never changed. The same eyes he lovingly longs for once in the past. Osamu rapidly replayed the day of the confession, it still stings.

They stare at each other for what Osamu felt like hours, he’s unsure what to say, but before Suna could say anything, he quickly interjects.

“Ah! Um, no, we met just a few minutes ago” Osamu glances at him from the corner of his eyes, hoping to whatever deity present that Suna understands where he’s going with the situation, “Never knew him before.”

“Then how do you know Rin’s full name then?” Kuroo speaks up. Fuck. 

Suna takes one good look at Osamu, face serious, then softens immediately. “Well, I am a model afterall. You should’ve said you’re a fan of me, Osamu-san.”

“Ugh, it’s always Rin-chan who gets all the attention.” Oikawa pouts. He mentally thanks Oikawa for distracting them from the main subject.

“You get the same amount of attention too, Oikawa, just from a different gender.” Kuroo says. Osamu notes how he was the only one clad in a suit minus the jacket and sleeves folded up to his elbows.

“Alright guys, tonight we’re celebrating Bo’s birthday, let’s not waste time and go to our booth.” Suna says as he stands up from his chair. 

“Heck yeah! Birthday boy, comin’ through!” Bokuto shouts, already pulling Akaashi towards their booth, Oikawa and Kuroo following suit.

Osamu finally lets out his breath he didn’t notice he was holding. Suna is still standing next to him, staring at him. He couldn’t read his expression, and he hates how he looks exactly like that day.

Suna opens his mouth, but Osamu puts up a hand instead to stop him, “We’re not talkin’ about this tonight, Suna.”

He hums, raising both his hands up in defense, “All I’m trying to say is if you don’t want them to know, I’ll just keep it a secret.”

“I’d appreciate it if ya do.” Osamu picks up his glass and walks towards the group without waiting for Suna.

The night went by smoothly, and Osamu actually had a great time with them, minus the part that he’s sitting next to Suna. He knows it’s petty, still bitter about something that happened twelve years ago in high school, but could anyone blame him? He mustered up his non-existent courage to confess to a boy he liked, didn’t receive any answer and said boy moved out of the state the day after without any notice. It stings up to this day, and he’s not going to let it go that easily.

He could say it’s the embarrassment that caused him the trauma, but that’s just a bit too dramatic. He isn’t his brother.

He has a beer, or two, perhaps five but he’s not counting anymore. He learns Oikawa and Suna are both supermodels, working for an agency that Kuroo is working at in Tokyo. Kuroo, childhood friend of Bokuto. Thus this little circle of friendship formed, and Osamu thinks the world seems terribly small and life always has a way to play with him. He catches little glances of Suna when he drinks, hiding it as much as he could.

But Suna’s eyes are always directing towards him.

The time on his lock screen shows half past two in the morning, and Osamu sighs in content in the chilly air of November. This is the most fun he’s ever had in awhile, with Bokuto and Kuroo singing loudly outside of the bar, drunk to the moon and Oikawa singing along just a little slower next to them swaying from side to side. They bid goodbye, taking a cab together back to their place leaving Osamu waiting for his ride.

“Hey,” Oh right, Suna’s still here, “I know you said you didn’t wanna talk about it, but I’m actually really surprised to see you again.”

Osamu represses his face to scowl, and he thinks his voice is calm enough to answer nicely, “Yeah, almost a decade.” Twelve years, to be exact, but he’s not counting.

“How are you, anyway, and Atsumu? I hope he’s not the same loud and obnoxious teenager.”

 _Oh you have no idea,_ Osamu wanted to answer, instead he fakes a laugh. “Well we’re all adults now aren’t we.”

“Yeah.” There’s something different in the tone of Suna’s voice that Osamu automatically turns to look him in the eyes. His expression is still the unreadable Suna but those piercing eyes with what he thinks is eyeliner watches him differently.

“You know, we should definitely hang out and catch up. Twelve years is a pretty damn long time to be apart.” Suna continues, giving a grin so handsome Osamu almost wants to give in. Almost. But he’s pretty drunk and stops himself before making any bad decision.

“I’ll think about it.” He sees Suna fishing out his phone from the pocket of his coat, handing it to Osamu.

“Great, let’s exchange phone numbers then.”

“I don’t give out my number to strangers.” He lies.

“Then maybe I can give you mine then.” He slides his phone back into the pocket, the other hand reaching out between them, “Incase you ever change your mind, you can contact me instead.”

Osamu hesitates, but he thinks it’s better than him giving out his. “Fine.” Osamu begrudgingly passes Suna his phone, typing fast while he ignores Suna’s attempt to make eye contact. He hands it back, Osamu quickly retreating his hands into his pockets when his taxi arrives.

“Call me when you get back?” He teases.

Osamu scoffs, “In yer dreams.”

They wave goodbye as Osamu leaves, and he immediately presses his cheeks with the back of his fingers, cursing when he feels it’s warmer than usual. It’s fine, he reassures himself, he can lie and say it’s the alcohol in his system and not him being nervous.

He didn’t waste his time searching through the web for ‘Suna Rintarou’ the moment he stepped into his house. He reads every article, going through every magazine, numerous campaigns and advertisements, all of the runway videos he’s walked for. God, he’s gotten stupidly hot and that’s so unfair. He shares several links to Atsumu, throws his ipad to the side and storms to the shower to clean himself. 

The cold water running over him calms him down, but the erection he has begs to differ. Damn Suna with his sexy face and a sexier body, he wraps his hands around his dick and pumps himself to climax. It’s been a while since he masturbated.

Coming out of the shower, Brie meows and rolls over showing off her tummy next to his phone. Several notifications from Atsumu, starting with a few ‘?????’ then ‘!!!!!!’ and continues with a lot of caps locked messages and ending with ‘that bitch owed me 2 melon pan, don’t think I forgot!!!’. He ignores them, petting Brie a few times, and finally focused enough to write the review. 

Atsumu and his mother have always said that he’s vastly different from the two of them, and he agrees. While they both are loud, spontaneous and go head first in any situation, Osamu isn’t. He’s reserved, calculates the risks, thinks, overthinks, and most of the time ends up not doing it.

Which is why he hasn’t text Suna, yet.

It’s been a month.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to message him, but, well yeah, he’s overthinking this again.

On one hand, he’s pissed about the high school confession turned ghosting. It took him 2 months to think of what he should say, another month of where he should say it, and 3 weeks of calling Suna to said venue. It was mentally draining, and when Suna didn’t say anything, standing there frozen in place, he took it as a cue to leave. Rejection was an option in his plan, he anticipated it, and he was ready for the consequences, but Suna moving away the next day without mentioning it hurts even more. So yeah, he has the right to be pissed.

On the other hand, that was 12 years ago. They’ve both grown up, physically changed to the point they didn’t recognise each other, and have jobs. Not to mention, he’s pretty sure Suna flirted with him back at the bar. He should’ve totally long forgotten about the past, and this is the opportunity to try again.

Try again?

Osamu groans and fists his hair.

It feels like it’s high school all over again and it’s giving him a headache. Hunched over, head on his table, the contact number on his phone screen seems like it’s taunting him. He sighs, just as he’s about to sit up straight, his phone rang.

Startled, shocking Brie in the process, he picks up his phone with an unknown caller id.

“Hello?” Osamu speaks.

“Aa! Miya-san!” This voice sounds awfully familiar. “It’s Kuroo, from Bo’s birthday party at the bar last time, remember?”

“Right, yes, I remember.”

“Well, sorry to call you all of a sudden, I got your number from Akaashi, hope you don’t mind.”

Osamu chuckles, keeping in mind to tell Akaashi not to give out his number so easily. “It’s fine. What brings ya calling?”

“Right! I’m hosting a Christmas party at this club, I thought it’d be fun to invite you too.”

“Christmas? Sorry Kuroo-san, I’ve plans with my family for Christmas.”

“Just Kuroo is fine, and no no no! It’s not on Christmas, it’s a week before Christmas, on the 18th? It’s a Friday night.” Kuroo explains.

Osamu never liked clubs or parties; it’s crowded, music is deafening, drinks are overpriced and just overall not a good time.

“I’m sorry Kuroo, but I don’t rea--”

“Rin’s gonna be there.” He interrupts, with a tone that Osamu is pretty sure accompanied by a smirk.

“Okay, and ya think that’s gonna make me change my mind, how?”

Kuroo laughs, “Just thought it’d work. Akaashi, Bokuto and Oikawa too. I’ll text you the place, in case you change your mind.”

When he hangs up, he hates to admit that Kuroo’s right. It’s working.

He taps his fingers on the table, quietly weighing the pros and cons. But, ultimately, he knows in the back of his mind he wants to see Suna again. Maybe it won’t hurt to go a while, greet the ones he knows, touch and go. Yeah. That’ll be okay.

The party’s not in another week, he could use this time to distract himself with work, he thinks. He doesn’t need to call now that they’re going to the same party. Yeah, it’s alright, comforting the guilt in himself.

The club is huge. Osamu stares in awe outside of the building at just how massive it is, the queue seems never ending and he could hear the music clearly. The premise seemed pretty, and expensive, and he wonders if Kuroo is rich.

He walks to the entrance, shows the bouncer Kuroo’s invitation card and gets in. 

The scent of alcohol and sweat immediately penetrates his nostrils.

Osamu makes a beeline through the crowd and straight to the bar where he sees Kuroo waving at his seat. He greets them all, the ones he’s familiar with and their respective plus-ones. After a quick inspection at each one of them, he definitely is the most underdressed with his shirt and denim jacket. Even Akaashi is wearing a black button up with a loose tie. He takes a seat next to Kuroo, who hands him a shot, and he politely declines.

“Oh come on Miya-san, it’s a party. Let loose and have a bit of fun!” Kuroo persists, pushing the glass once more to him. He sighs, taking the glass and downs it in one go. They cheer, and Oikawa whistles.

“Look at you, Samu-chan! Another one for my good sir here!” Oikawa beams to the bartender, patting him in the back. Osamu waves his hand. 

“No, please, a margarita for me.”

“Fancy.” Osamu’s heart beats faster, head slowly turning to Suna dressed in the most ungodly way possible and he has to resist from staring too long at the exposed skin on his chest. The group hugged Suna, whistling and complementing his outfit.

“Fuck, Rinrin! Tryin’ to get laid with the whole club or something?” Bokuto comments loudly, and Osamu sort of agrees with him.

A white button up shirt that slightly exposes his chest, black blazer with gold plated chains decorating his shoulders. The pants sinfully fit every curve of his thighs, leaving silhouettes for other people’s imagination. Osamu feels his mouth watering, but keeps a calm face.

“You look hot yourself, Bo.” Suna pats Bokuto’s shoulder. “this is a great party, Kuroo. Literally everyone from the agency’s here.”

“You know me, I’ll leave nobody behind.” 

“I ordered more shots! Everybody grab one.” Oikawa turns up with a tray of shots, placing each to everyone.

“Cheers!”

With one swift motion, Osamu downs it easily. The tequila burns his throat, but he feels refreshed, no doubt. The club suddenly changes the lighting from blue to a deep red, and an unfamiliar song plays which let the patrons of the club cheer with glee.

“Oh, Keiji! I love this song! Let’s dance!” Bokuto pulls a smiling Akaashi to the dance floor into the sea of people. Oikawa follows suit, dragging what seems to be a reluctant partner, but successfully gets the both of them to the dancefloor too.

“You’re not dancing, Miya-san?” Kuroo asks, screaming through the music.

“Maybe later.” Kuroo flops off his seat and goes dancing as well.

Suna takes a seat next to Osamu, both quietly enjoying their drinks and watching the people moving together with the music. It’s a song Osamu never heard before, but he tries to enjoy it nonetheless.

“So, you actually didn’t text me when you got back” Suna speaks, swirling his drink, “that hurts my feelings, Osamu.”

Oh, right, he forgot about that. “’m sorry, work got a bit too overwhelming.”

“It’s alright. I wasn’t too free myself.”

Osamu nods, and takes another sip of his drink. His leg starts bouncing spontaneously, his hand holding his drink a bit tighter than normal. The booming bass from the speakers gets louder as the song changes to something techno, and he could feel every beat in his heart. He places his glass on the counter, clasping his hands together as he watches Oikawa shamelessly grinding with his partner, laughing loudly. He’s too distracted to see Suna glancing at him from the side.

“Another drink, Osamu?” He faintly hears Suna ask, and shakes his head. He made a mistake of looking at him, almost forgot he looks sexy as fuck tonight, long legs one on the floor and one of the stool, comfortably leaning back with an arm to support him. Suna slightly smirks at Osamu’s faint crimson cheeks.

“I never knew you were into clubs.”

“I’m not”

“Then why’re you here then?”

Osamu didn’t want to say it’s because of Suna, that would be embarrassing, but the liquor is fuzzing his brain and his wall is cracking. “I wanted to see somebody.”

“What’s that?”

“I said I--” Osamu turns, and his body freezes in place when he notices Suna is close, too close, an eyebrow cocking and face near. 

“Wha- what’re ya doin?”

“I can’t hear you.”

Right, the music is loud. Osamu isn’t sure if the thump in his heart is from the music anymore, or his beating heart threatening to jump out. Suna is too close for comfort and it’s making him feel things.

“I-- Uh, I wanted to see somebody.”

“Oh? And have you seen them yet?” The corner of his mouth turns up, eyebrows waggling and Osamu shoves him away, laughing softly. “Alright, I take it as a yes then.”

Osamu finishes his drink in one go, and sighs.

“You wanna get out of here?” Suna asks.

He gives him a once-over, “Why’re ya askin’ me?”

“I’m kinda hungry, and the food here’s hella expensive” Suna shrugs, “Thought you’d wanna leave this place too.”

Now that Suna mentioned it, he is kinda hungry, his stomach growling from the skipped dinner due to a review he accidentally missed the deadline.

“Yeah, I’m kinda hungry too.”

Suna jumps off his stool, swiping off imaginary dust off his blazer, “Cool. You know anywhere good around here?”

Osamu thinks about it, then he remembers a restaurant that’s very close to the area. “Yeah, it’s a pasta place.”

“Cool! Lead the way then.”

The both of the men stand in the freezing night air, staring at the closed sign of the restaurant. Suna checks his phone, swiping through the web.

“Yeah, guess it’s closed early.” Suna says, showing the screen to Osamu. He sighs, it is late now that he noticed.

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware of it.”

“It’s alright, not your fault,” Suna shivers into his coat. “Know anywhere else?”

Osamu searches for the other eatery in his phone, Suna peeps from his side, digging deeper into his coat. 

“Great, it’s closed as well.”

Suna hums, looking around and shuffling his feet, “Wanna go to my place?” he suggests. He blinks his eyes, a tiny bump in his chest. “It’s near the area. Plus, I have a car. It’s kinda late to get a cab now, I’m guessing they charge extra for late nights.”

“We both just had alcohol, I don’t think ya should be drivin’”

“I’m sober as I can ever be already. So? Wanna go?”

Osamu feels his heart skip a beat, and he can’t stand the bone-chilling air piercing through his clothes, “Sure.”

The car ride to Suna’s house was comfortable, silent with only the engine roaring could be heard.

They arrived at Suna’s place, Osamu is impressed at the interior, it’s so black and everything looks polished. Black cabinets, black sofa, black carpets. But it still looks sophisticated with white and gray accents on the furniture, very Suna if he could say so himself.

“Yer place is really pretty”

“Thanks, an interior designer friend of mine helped me with it”

“Must be nice ta have model money”

“You talk as if I make billions of yens”

“Ya don’t?” Suna flips a finger and Osamu only laughs.

He makes himself comfortable and sits at the leather couch in the living room, studying the pictured frame on the table and several magazines laid out. Running through them, he notices they’re the ones that Suna models in, and he looks incredibly handsome in them.

“I ordered some takeout, but here’s some Christmas cookies Rumiko made.”

Osamu takes a bite out of the cookie while Suna pours the wine. His eyes widened as he chews, “wow these are so good.”

“They’re amazing right? She’s a patissier at some fancy hotel now”

Osamu studies the bottle of wine, “ _Dom Perignon_? No model money my ass”

“It was a gift okay, tonight seems like a suitable time to open the bottle.” Suna hands the glass to Osamu, fingers touching ever so slightly, “it’s not everyday I get to meet an old best friend after so long”

Best friend, Osamu reminisces at the word, how they used to be really close back in high school, the only person Osamu really feels comfortable with, who accepted him despite how quiet he used to be and the other kids didn’t want to be friends with him. But that was all in the past, and Osamu only chuckles at the memory.

“Cheers to that then.”

The night went on comfortably, they talked about Suna’s sister, Rumiko, Atsumu, taking a trip down memory lane in high school and laughing about funny memories of their teachers. The take out arrived and if it wasn’t from the liquor swimming through his veins and the angry growling from his stomach, he would’ve thrown out the food the second he saw the god-awful colour of the pasta. They ate and talked more, carefully dancing around the topic of the day Osamu confessed, but neither of them mentioned it, and Osamu appreciated it.

“So I heard you’re single, and that you don’t date anymore.” Suna asks, pouring more wine into Osamu’s glass, “and before you get mad, I asked Bokuto who knows it from Akaashi.”

Damn that Akaashi.

“Yeah, not really ready for commitments now.”

“You’re a food critic right? Busy?”

“More or less.” He lies.

“Hm, shame.”

Suna looks incredibly beautiful in the low light of his apartment, softly defining his cheekbones and dark black hair, and he can’t stop staring. He notices Suna still has the habit of grabbing someone’s arms when he laughs, and every touch of his burns Osamu’s skin, leaving him wanting more, needing more. He might be imagining him touching a second longer than usual, and he’s enjoying it. He hides the blush creeping up his cheeks with the wine glass, but Suna seems like he’s having fun talking to even notice it.

“I remember Gin fell off the chair when Fumiko put the fake cockroach on his table. Man that was hilarious!”

“I thought Gin passed out cause he didn’t move, and ya had the audacity ta kick him”

“I nudged him.”

“With yer foot”

“Softly”

Suna chuckles, softly nudging Osamu with his arm and taking another bite of his fried rice. It might be a bit rude, but he couldn’t stop staring at the oil slicked lips of Suna’s, god why is he becoming like this, he feels like a high schooler again.

“You’re staring”

Osamu looks away quickly, “Ah, sorry.” 

“Like what you’re seeing then?” Smiling, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, making Osamu chuckle.

“Yer annoyin’.”

“’m just playin’ with ya”

“That was a bad attempt of my accent” they both snorted, and it quickly became another string of laughter, they’re both sure they’re drunk by now. 

“Ah, but in all honesty though, Samu, you changed a lot. I literally did not recognise you at all.” He swirls his hand around his head, “especially with the blue hair. When did that happen?”

“I thought of trying to, ya know, have a lil’ fun”

“Wow, I’m impressed, where did my shy little Samu go?”

_My Samu…_

“That was a decade ago, ya practically changed bodies.”

Suna softly laughs, running his hand through his hair pushing them back, “Puberty did wonders to me I guess”

“Bullshit”

“Damn it, see right through me” Suna pauses, eyes locking to Osamu’s, “Can I touch it?”

“Touch what”

“Your hair” Rubbing the back of his neck, eyes still staring at his, “but it’s okay if you don’t want to. They just look soft”

“Sure,” Osamu coughs, embarrassed at the speed of his reply, “ya can touch it.”

Suna scoots closer to Osamu, his thighs brushing his and Osamu flinches a bit at the heat he feels through the cloth. Suna is close, terribly close, and Osamu unconsciously holds his breath. Suna puts his hands up, slowly, hesitantly, and Osamu instinctively closes his eyes.

Osamu feels his hand lingering in the air for a second, a little hesitation, but softly, ever so gently, Suna’s long bony fingers run through his hair, and he lets out his breath in a soft sigh. He moves slowly, rolling his hair between his fingers, and running them again at the side of head, faintly touching his ears and he knows they’re getting red. Then it stops, and Osamu peeks open his eyes and Suna staring at him with the warmest look on his face.

Osamu fidgets in place, he feels entranced, like a prey hunted down by a predator by those very same eyes he yearns for for years, unable to move. His hands fists on his lap, they’re visibly sweating and his toes are curling up. Suna’s hands move down and hold the side of his head, cold fingers below his jawline and thumb caressing his cheeks. He sighs, closing his eyes again, this feels so nice, he thinks. It’s been so long since he’s been touched this way and he pushes into the touch.

“They’re soft,” Suna remarks, and Osamu opens his eyes shyly, “Your hair, and your face”

“And yer fingers are coarse. I thought sandpapers were scrappin’ my skin” Suna laughs, eyes slowly travelling to his lips. Osamu feels shivers running down his spine when he runs his thumb over his bottom lips.

“Samu,” Suna’s voice hushed, as if it would break the silence between them, as he moves so close Osamu could feel his breath on his skin, “I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

Does he want Suna to stop? It’s the most logical thing to do in this situation; they’re both drunk, his mouth smells like pesto and Suna once rejected him. This doesn’t seem ideal, nay, this is a bad idea. But, somewhere deep in his brain, that part is telling him to go for it, it’s now or never, he wants this, he needs this, he’s right there and just he just has to go for it. They might forget about it the next morning, and he’s okay with it. 

A kiss, just one kiss.

Osamu nods slightly, and Suna takes it as a yes and pushes his face forward. Suna’s lips brushing his in the slowest way possible, hand holding Osamu’s face in place. A jolt of electricity rushes through Osamu’s body and he feels like falling, hands holding on to Suna’s collars impulsively for his dear life.

Perhaps it’s the way Suna’s hand feels so warm on his face, or it’s the alcohol fogging his brain, but inevitably he knows that it’s because Osamu is desperately hungry for human touch, he grips Suna’s collars and yanks him closer to him, satisfied when Suna inhales sharply. He feels Suna’s hand travels to the back of his neck, holding him tighter, closer and Osamu is burning with want.

He feels daring enough to lick Suna’s lips, seeking permission to explore his mouth. Suna smirks, hands travelling lower to his back, bodies pressed together until there’s no space between them. Mouths open, tongue dancing together in frenzy, sucking and licking the cavern. It tastes salty, with hints of the bitter alcohol. It’s not the best combination, but now, it tastes very inviting, and he’s savouring it as much as he can. Osamu feels his chest burning and breaks the kiss, both panting hard.

“Wow.” Suna remarks, hands still holding his sides. Osamu is still trying to catch his breath, his head no longer drunk from the wine but now from the kiss so addictive, he wants more. He looks down to Osamu’s chest.

“Oh, you definitely like what you see huh.” Osamu makes a disgusted face, pushing Suna over to fall on the couch. He’s grateful that the sofa is huge enough for two adult men, not that he thought about it when he first came in. He adjusts himself, positioning his hard crotch directly on top of Suna’s obvious tent, and grinds on it once. Suna lets out a moan so sinful Osamu eats it up, moving over and over.

“Fuck, Samu, oh my god” Suna grips his thighs firmly, head falls back, exposing his neck and Osamu dives in, sucking softly and licking at every skin he could see. Suna’s hands move towards Osamu’s denim jacket, scrambling to open them and throwing it off to the sides. His hands retreats back to his sides, travelling underneath his shirt and feels the skin, pulling him closer.

Osamu pulls back enough to unbutton Suna’s blazer, marveling at the exposed milky white skin that looks so appetizing he could almost taste it. He takes off his shirt, and continues to kiss Suna, their naked bodies pressed together as he moans into Suna’s mouth when their nipples graze together. Suna’s hands grasp Osamu’s ass, pushing them down as he grinds up for some friction on his crotch. He is so painfully hard that he needs release now.

“Suna… take off yer pants.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice”

The two men continue their kiss as they awkwardly struggle to open their pants in their weird position, but it comes undone and Osamu takes a moment to look at Suna’s dick. He just wants to scream at how unfair Suna’s luck is that even his dick is so big and long, heavy and hard resting on his torso. He hates it even more when Suna puts his hands behind his head, proudly smiling like he understands what Osamu’s thinking. He rolls his eyes, but before he could do anything, he feels his thighs straddled by Suna’s and before he knows it, he’s being pinned down.

“Wha--”

“My turn.”

“Samu, d’ya think I should give these cookies to Yamaha-san now, or tomorrow?”

Osamu turns to his back, hands still stirring the pot of gravy on the stove. He purses his lips as he thinks of their weird neighbour who never gives back their plastic containers. “Tomorrow, and put ‘em in paper bags instead.”

The Miya family always has a tradition to celebrate Christmas together, even when they’re not so religious per say. But they use the opportunity to sit down and eat fried chicken together in the cold winter month, and Osamu secretly looks forward to it every year. His mother and Atsumu will always be so excited decorating the Christmas tree that’s way too big for the house with decorations that are so obnoxiously ugly for his taste. But the gleam in their eyes and the laughter that comes with it is always worth it. As for him, he’s in charge of making food, even when the fried chicken chain has their own mashed potatoes and salad, he hates it, therefore committed to making his own from scratch.

Osamu suddenly remembers the night with Suna, and feels his cheeks warming up. He couldn’t believe he did that, but it’s been so long that it felt so good and fulfilled. Not to mention Suna’s skills in bed were unbelievable; he's blushing just thinking about it. He shakes his head, thinking dirty thoughts and about sex in his mother’s house seems terribly wrong. But oh how he loved every moment of it; the way Suna’s hands holds tight on his waist, his moans that sounds scrumptious to his ears, the way he rails him so good he cu--

“Samu, yer gravy’s burnin’” Atsumu’s voice brings him back to reality and he realises he’s stopped stirring. Curse you brain for being horny, he thinks to himself.

The three of them sit at their dining table, fingers oily with fried chicken and talking happily about Atsumu’s new semester and his class of very active students. Osamu listens tentatively, watching closely at how Atsumu’s face slowly, but surely, regains the spark that used to shine annoyingly from his face. Even his mother notices this, and they both shared an understanding look.

“Nobody likes quantum physics, except for this class! God, I have never felt so energised and passionate teachin’ ever in my life! Can ya believe there’s this kid who tried to debate with me about Higgs field? I was so impressed, but ya know, I won. But that’s another story,...”

Osamu chuckles, plating himself more mashed potatoes before his phone buzzes with an incoming message. He glanced, and his heart skipped a beat when Suna’s name appeared.

 **From: Suna Rintarou**  
Merry Christmas, Samu <3

The little heart at the end is very unnecessary, but he smiles anyway.

 **To: Suna Rintarou**  
Merry Christmas to ya and yer family too, Suna

He places his phone back on the table, but just as Atsumu starts to talk about another theory he doesn’t understand shit about, Atsumu’s phone rings. Osamu looks up to Atsumu, eyes going round when he sees Atsumu frozen in place and face ashen. He snatches the phone immediately and runs out of the house, answering the call he knows who it is even without looking at the number.

“Atsumu?”

“It’s Osamu.” He can feel his blood boiling, hands gripping on the phone until his knuckles turn white.

_“Samu? Where’s Atsu--”_

“Ya don’t get to call me that ya fucker,” Osamu growls, teeth gritting in anger, “Listen here ya piece of fuckin shit, if ya ever dare to call my brother again, nay, even if ya ever THINK about calling, or ‘bout my brother, I will personally go to yer house and skin ya alive. Don’t ya fucking test me, I swear to God, fuck off.”

He hangs up, immediately blocks the number and deletes the call log. He takes a few deep breaths, calming himself down before walking back into his house. 

Atsumu is quiet, looking down on the table, and his mother’s eyebrows drew together in worry. He sits back down, placing his hand gently on his brother’s shoulders, rubbing soothing circles. He sighs, this sucks.

“Atsu--”

“It’s alright.” Both Osamu and their mother whip their heads to Atsumu, sadness clouded his features despite him smiling. “I’ll be okay. Let’s continue eating.”

They did, but it was silent. Atsumu didn’t even eat his food anymore, mindlessly picking the chicken on the plate. His mother looks back and forth at Atsumu then to him, feeling uncomfortable with how this is going. He sighs, placing his spoon down.

“Maybe we should change yer phone number” he suggests, breaking the silence. Atsumu shrugs.

“I think that’s a good idea, we don’t need them to disturb ya anymore, Tsumu” his mother places her hand on Atsumu’s, “I am very worried about ya.”

Atsumu smiles, and grabs her hand, “I know. I was just wonderin’ what they want.”

“Don’t, you deserve better than that.” Osamu’s voice raises, still filled with anger and tries to calm himself.

“Yeah, but, it gets lonely sometimes, and I’m just…”

“I understand Atsumu, I truly understand. It’s fine, you’ll be okay.” His mother gets up and hugs Atsumu, smiling apologetically to Osamu.

And it hits him, like a delayed sting of a bite of his first carolina reaper chili pepper, like a zap of pure, painful sour taste in his mouth.

His brother and mother are lonely.

And here he is having sex with his crush.

Guilt isn’t even near to what he feels now, he feels sick knowing he’s happy, how dare he. He looks at Atsumu’s sad smile as he wraps his arms around his mother, he watches at the way his mother’s sorrowful eyes that raises them both all alone crinkle. No, he can’t be happy now, he must be there for them, he knows they need him, their only pillar of emotional support, family.

Osamu ignores all of Suna’s texts for the holidays.

Osamu celebrated the first day of the new year by reviewing what possibly could be the worst eatery he’s ever been to; service was lacking, food wasn’t cooked properly and he swore he saw a rat pass by the kitchen door. He went out of the building with the longest sigh, hands in pocket and thinking of words to describe his experience without spitting them to shut down the business. Osamu is about to call a cab when he sees Suna standing by the roadside, scrolling through his phone.

“Suna?”

He brightens instantly when he hears Osamu’s voice, striding over to him in quick steps and enveloping him in a big hug. Osamu, eyes wide, frozen in place, took 3 seconds to notice they’re in a public space, pushing him away slowly.

“Suna, we’re in public.”

“And you didn’t answer my texts”

“How did ya know I was here?” he asks. This place is further away than his house area, and Osamu never posts about his work schedule.

“Ah, Akaashi told me. Sorry about that, I was worried since you didn’t reply to my message at all since Christmas.” Suna cocks his head, “which reminds me, did something happen?”

Osamu thought of Atsumu, “I, uh…”

“Wait, we should talk about this somewhere. Wanna go back to my place?”

“No!” they both were startled at the volume of Osamu’s voice, attracting other people’s attention too. He knows things will escalate if they’re at Suna’s, and he would like to avoid that. “My house is nearer, let’s go to mine.”

They arrived at Osamu’s house in minutes by Suna’s car, which he appreciated because the cold winter air started to hurt his nostrils. They didn’t talk the whole way back, Osamu fiddling with his phone typing in notes from the previous restaurant to distract himself from Suna’s perfume.

Brie greets them at the door, meowing softly. Osamu gives a few pets and hangs his coat by the genkan.

“You have a cat?” Suna asks, bending down to play with her tummy.

“Her name’s Brie”

“She’s very pretty.”

Osamu directly went to the kitchen, filing in the kettle with water to make some tea. He didn’t notice Suna walking towards him, grabbing his hand. Osamu flinches, turning around to see Suna staring at him, his face terribly close, inching the space between them closer for a kiss. His heart thumps fast and hard, but he quickly places a hand between them in defense.

“I can’t do this.” he stammers. Suna stops, and frowns.

“Do what?”

“Um, this,” he points back and forth between them, “us, kissing, and stuff.”

Suna releases his hands, “huh, did I read the room wrong then?”

Osamu shakes his head fast, “It’s nothing about ya, it’s, uh, me, ’m not ready for any… commitments.”

“Aww, did you think we’re dating now?”

“Yer the one huggin’ me in public, and kissin’ me all of a sudden”

“Can’t help it when you’re too cute.” He smiles, Osamu flushes, “You didn’t answer my question though, did anything happen on Christmas?”

“Nothin’. I got busy.” He lies, hoping Suna didn’t notice him averting his eyes away from Suna.

Suna hums, “Too busy to answer a friend’s text?”

“We had sex.”

“And the best goddamn sex I’ve had in a while too” Suna smirks at the flush creeping up to Osamu’s ears, and presses on, “Don’t you think so?”

“Shut up, Suna”

“You’re so cute when you’re in denial” he chuckles

“Suna, please, I’m serious” Osamu couldn’t help but accidentally smile, walking away from the kitchen to his living room, “Havin’ commitments at times like this doesn’t seem ideal to me, especially with work”

Suna pauses for a while, he hopes Suna doesn’t see through his lie, but then he places a hand on Osamu’s cheeks, thumb caressing the skin, “that would suck, I really enjoyed our time together though.”

Osamu feels his face heating up, and looks away from Suna’s gaze.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Suna…”

“It’s totally fine if you say no.”

Osamu thinks about it, really hard, his brain is setting off every warning alarm but his heart wants this so badly. He feels Suna’s thumb caressing softly on his cheeks, and he closes his eyes, sighing.

The things this man is doing to him. He nods shyly, and Suna kisses him, holding his head in place. Osamu sighs, he likes this, he really likes Suna kissing him. He feels fire lit in every place in his body and it burns. He places his hands on Suna’s waist and pulls him closer, and Suna breaks the kiss.

“Really, Osamu?” he smirks, mimicking Osamu’s fingers pointing back and forth between them, “whatever happened to ‘not wanting to do this’”

“Shut the fuck up, yer already kissin’ me”

“Alright, alright”

They kiss again, this time Suna didn’t take his time shoving his tongue in Osamu’s mouth. He licks his tongue, making Osamu moan, his hands on Suna’s waist grips tight holding on for dear life. Suna tastes sweet this time, like artificial peach flavoured candy. Osamu feels himself being pushed to the back, and his back hits the wall. Their kisses were feverish, hot, and Osamu felt so much guilt and yet his mind filled with wanting every part of Suna.

He rolls his hips when Suna bites his bottom lip, sucking them softly that Osamu couldn’t help but moan out his name. He chases Suna’s lips when he once again breaks the kiss, mentally cursing him.

“Fuck Suna”

“You know, we don’t have to have any sort of relationship to have sex,” 

“And ya can’t wait to tell this afterwards?”

“No, I mean,” he looks down between them, both their crotches painfully hard, “we can be friends, who fucks from time to time.”

Osamu cocks an eyebrow, and Suna pushes some stray hair away from Osamu’s face.

“Think about it, no strings attached, no commitments, just two friends having casual sex to release some pent up tension. It’s like, exercising.”

“That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard”

“It’s a great plan, I think.” His expression softens, “I would love to have you scream my name with that delicious voice of yours”

Osamu’s face turns scarlet, and looks away.

Is it a good idea?

Just two friends who have casual sex from time to time. That isn’t weird, that’s pretty normal nowadays, right? A grown men who has sexual desires and a beautiful man in front of him consenting to fuck him.

_You do remember Suna rejected you when you confessed in high school, right?_

Fuck, he did. But it was a decade ago, Suna might’ve not even remembered the confession. He would’ve mentioned it if he remembers, right? He keeps flirting with him now, and he can feel his dick grinding on him and it is hard. 

_But think about Atsumu, he’s still recovering from pain and you’re having fun kissing your high school crush. How dare you be in an intimate relationship with somebody, having to feel love and lust when your own twin brother was crushed by the same reason, and not to mention your own mother living alone with her partner._

True, but this isn’t a relationship. They’re not committed to each other, and he could leave whenever he wants. So it doesn’t count. He thought about Akaashi’s words again, ‘giving Tokyo a chance’, did he know this would happen? Very unlikely, but it happened. He’s a man in his late twenties, single, and has sexual desires.

Besides, what Atsumu and his mother don't know won’t hurt them.

“Osamu? Really, I don’t want to push you into th--”

“Yes.” He answers, fisting the hem of Suna’s shirt. “Let’s do it.” 

“I’d love to know why you agree to that,”

“Fuck, just kiss me, please”

Suna chuckles, “cute.”

“Oh? Miya-san?”

Osamu turns around and sees Kuroo, all dressed down in jeans and a shirt, with a tall blonde next to him. 

“Hey, fancy seeing you here. Can I assume this bakery is good if a food critic buys his baked goods here?” Osamu laughs.

“Very funny Kuroo-san. Here to get bread?”

“Nah, Tsukki here wants some cake. This is Tsukki by the way.”

“It’s Tsukishima, actually. Nice to meet you.” They shake hands, Osamu notes how tall he is, way taller than both Suna and Kuroo.

“Here alone?” Kuroo asks.

“No, Suna’s there picking his pastries.” He gestures his thumb to his back, Suna clearly having a hard time picking his tarts, with a tray already filled with various kinds. Kuroo stares at Suna, then looks at Osamu, then back at Suna. He smirks.

“You two are _close_ I see.” He purrs the word longer than necessary, and Osamu already hates the way he’s smiling at him with those cat-like eyes. “Anything interesting happened between you two?”

Osamu rolls his eyes. “A jokester are ya”

“Tetsu, stop pestering into people’s life.” Tsukishima deadpans, walking away from them and straight to the cake section. Kuroo snickers, before Suna walks to them.

“Tsukki here for his weekly cake fix again?” Kuroo nods, looking at the blonde lovingly. Osamu could only assume they’re lovers.

“Well, I don’t want to ruin your date, I’ll leave you both to it.” He winks, walking past them.

“It’s not a date, Kuroo.” Suna simply says.

Yeah, it’s not a date, they’re just two pals going to the bakery to grab some food before going back to his house, eat, and fuck.

Whatever arrangement he and Suna have right now seems dirty, but somehow, Osamu couldn’t have enough of it. It has become part of his routine; going to restaurants, going back home to write his review, sometimes going out for dinner with Suna at restaurants, or their houses, and having mind-blowing sex. They’re not in a relationship, they don’t commit to each other, it’s perfect.

But, Osamu realises they’ve been having more sex than usual. It’s been 4 months since they made the deal, and slowly it went from once every 2-3 weeks to almost weekly. Suna’s been having more modelling works, but he never fails to come to his house on the weekends with food, wine and a stamina enough for Osamu to be unable to walk properly the next day. Sometimes it's twice a week, and it’s just them talking and hanging out.

Suna flops to the side of the bed, pushing his bangs away from his sweaty forehead. They’re both panting, catching their breath on Suna’s bed on a Tuesday evening. Osamu closes his eyes with his arms, he can feel the pain approaching on his lower back and groans.

“Does it hurt?”

“I’m gonna lose my ability to walk for the next few days”

Suna only manages to chuckle, but Osamu wasn’t lying. They’ve been doing for 3 hours; yes he checked the time, and used probably 3 condoms. Curse Suna and his stamina.

“I’ll get the bath ready so you can soak a bit.” Suna gets up, leaving Osamu alone on the bed. It’s time like this that he thinks about how this relationship works fine as it is, but something is bothering him, but he couldn’t pick out the words for it, nor could he explain how it feels. He likes this, being close to Suna, touching every skin on his body, being able to feel him inside of him.

No, it’s probably just the after effects of sex. He thinks.

“Bath’s ready, Samu.” Suna calls from the toilet, towel wrapping low on his waist and another towel drying his hair. He looks good like this, he thinks, almost like he was a roman god carved into marble. He could just lick—

_Nope stop it._

After a bath, a quick shower and changing to fresh clean clothes he packed for Suna’s house, Osamu is about to leave before Suna stops him.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Suna rubs the back of his neck.

“If you’re planning for a round 4, then yes I am very busy.”

“Delicious offer, and what a bullshit lie, but no. Oikawa told me about this little carnival opening about an hour from here. I really wanna go, but I don’t wanna go alone, so, you wanna come with?”

Osamu has a pending work to send tomorrow. “Yeah I’m free.”

He hasn’t been to any funfairs in a long time, perhaps in over a decade and it was with his brother. He remembers the carnival music, the sound of laughing children, the twinkling fairy lights and the sound of whirring engines from the rides. It’s so nostalgic, and he feels like a child again.

They rode so many rides, stopping to get snacks in between every ride because they both agree, carnival food tastes good, even if they’re overpriced. The queue to each ride didn’t feel as excruciatingly long like it used to, as it’s filled with Suna and him talking about anything and everything. It feels so nice, sometimes just a comfortable silence and that’s also nice too.

After what felt like hours, they both sat on one of the benches, eating a big fluffy cotton candy Suna purchased while they both were people watching. Osamu enjoys the silence, and turns to Suna. His eyes twinkles, the fairy lights illuminating his face just right, and his bangs move with the soft night air. Suna looks at him too, eyes crinkle at the corner.

“This is nice.”

_Thump._

Osamu stares at the way Suna beams under the luminescence, his eyes gleaming honey gold.

_Thump._

Suna sighs in contempt, still smiling and picking the cotton candy in Osamu’s hand, the shift in movement pressing his arms closer to Suna’s arms, the touch felt like fire, like spices that burn your tongue.

_Thump._

Suna looks at him, and smiles before he puts the cotton candy in his mouth, melting as soon as it contacts his tongue, that’s now stained in artificial blue and sweet sugar.

_Thump._

He knows what this is now, what this airy feeling is in his chest, like light dalgona coffee foam in his morning drink, the sweet aftertaste of sugary spice. He has feelings for Suna Rintarou.

“I never told you about why I haven’t dated anyone,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s not because I’m scared of commitments or anything, that’s just a cover up.”

Suna turns to him, giving him his utmost attention and Osamu fidgets under the stare. “I feel guilty if I ever dated anybody, that's all.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“Because Atsumu and my mom are divorced and they’re all alone without anyone to love romantically. It feels wrong knowing that and I’m the only one not like that.” He thinks about Atsumu’s face, and he sighs.

“I see,” Osamu whips his head towards Suna, surprised, “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I were in your shoes.”

Osamu smiles, “Thanks. I really do want to date, romantically love a person, live with ‘em all that jazz. But no, it’ll be unfair for my family.”

“Thank you for telling me this.” He places his hand on top of Osamu’s, “I appreciate you opening up to me. I’m sure it’s not something you want a lot of people to know.”

Osamu blinks, Suna’s words repeating in his head again and again. He just told his greatest fear to Suna, and Suna took it so well. He’s glad, almost bursting with joy. He grabs Suna’s hands, and gives it a light squeeze. “Thanks Suna.”

He likes Suna Rintarou.

He sighs, the guilt weighing heavier in his chest but the warmth of Suna’s hands lifts him back to reality.

It’s okay, he assures himself, it’s okay for now.

It was a rainy Thursday at Osamu’s house when Suna asked him. “Hey, do you want to come to one of our shoots? Kuroo’s gonna be there too, and they let us bring a plus one this time for fun.”

“When?”

“It’s this weekend, I can pick you up because it’s pretty far from here. If you’re free, that is.”

Osamu took only 3 seconds to agree to the invitation, excited to see his friend model. A friend who he likes.

“Sure, seems fun.”

Yeah, that’s it. Just friends stuff.

And that’s how they are now in Suna’s car on an hour trip to his shooting spot the next weekend. Osamu couldn't stop taking sneaky glances at Suna because ‘oh god he still has his high school hair’. He’s in comfy clothes; grey sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, yet he looks so good, Osamu is jealous, his old hair used to look like an emotional angsty teenager but with a bad self hair job. Suna’s straight, black hair is parted in the middle, unstyled yet still looking glossy despite being sans product. This brings back high school memories, except it’s shorter now, but still, Osamu’s heart beats faster. He thinks about how Suna used to use his bangs to cover his face from people. And now, he’s a goddamn model.

“Don’t be shy, take a picture.” A corner of Suna’s mouth quirks up, glancing to his side. Osamu looks away.

“I wasn’t lookin’ at ya”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Ya still have yer high school hair.” Osamu remarks, eyes still looking out the window.

“Yeah, I’m too lazy to think of a new hairstyle.” He chuckles, “You said you weren’t looking at me.”

Osamu chooses to ignore Suna, arms crossed across his chest. He likes this, whatever they’re having. He could live like this.

They arrived at the location on the outskirts of Tokyo which Osamu thought was breathtaking. The open field was covered in blooming flowers, a perfect nod to the Spring day. Magnificent clouds painting the sky, a good day for a photoshoot, he thinks. They walk towards the crew, familiar faces in sight.

“Oh Rin, so cute of your boyfriend to join us today.” Kuroo, hands on hips, raises his brows a few times to Suna, to which he gets flipped.

“Not my boyfriend, but yeah it’s nice.”

“We said bring _our_ plus one, and--”

“That means I can bring your mom here too, don’t test me.”

Oikawa wheezes next to them, Kuroo’s jaw drops to the ground. Osamu couldn’t help but laugh at that too. Suna is immediately pulled to hair and makeup, getting ready for the photoshoot. Kuroo introduces him to Iwaizumi, Oikawa’s boyfriend. He remembers the night at the club where they grind with each other on the dancefloor, but he pushes it to the back of his mind and introduces him as well.

After a few hours, the photoshoot starts with several models that he didn’t recognise. He notices the clothes they’re wearing were pastels in colour, and material that looked sheer and flowy that would look good in the soft wind.

Several minutes later, it was Suna’s turn. He stands in the middle of the flower field, posing for the camera, body moving effortlessly accentuating the clothes he wears to make them look the best way possible. Hands moving up behind head, face straight to the sun that shines his features like gold, his shirt running up teasing a bit of skin and Osamu gulps. He looks so good. _So good._

Oikawa’s next, he too is undeniably handsome. But his eyes follow Suna walking to the makeshift wardrobe to change to his next outfit, laughing with the stylist he couldn’t hear. He feels his chest flutter, but pushes it down.

Osamu sits with Iwaizumi at the tent, drinks in hand watching the model do the work. He makes small talk with him, and he likes how warm and calm he is, the exact opposite of Oikawa. But the recollection of him grinding at the club with his boyfriend made Osamu embarrassed to look him in the eye, and thank God Iwaizumi didn’t seem to notice.

There were other models with them, none of which Osamu recognised but they were equally gorgeous. He felt small and somewhat undeserving to be sitting here surrounded by literal beauty, so he’s grateful Iwaizumi is here with him.

It’s been two hours, and Osamu is dead tired. It’s a good thing he brought his ipad with him so he could write reviews while Suna isn’t the one on set. He managed to do several drafts for his review, and sent amendments to the previous ones, so he didn’t feel like it was a total waste of time. The final shoot included Suna and another model who he overheard Oikawa calling as Ami-chan. They both wore blazers and pants only, and nothing else.

Osamu had to keep himself calm on the sight of Suna’s exposed chest and torso.

“Pheww look at Suna go! Baby lemme lick that bodaaay~” Oikawa screams from a far and the whole set laughs. Iwaizumi groans beside him, but a smile on his face. 

To be honest, Osamu would love to lick it too.

The way it glistens under the sunlight from the sweat, the way it flexes when he talks, every curve and indentations looks like it was carved by God.

But, when the shooting started, Osamu’s breath hitched.

He watches as the other touches Suna’s nape, holding his head close to hers, other hand on his exposed body. Their mouths open, space between their lips only a hair away. His eyes half-lidded open, their bodies pressed together as they pose for the camera, looking absolutely stunning as a duo.

A twinge of jealousy hits Osamu and it hurts his chest.

They move in sync like it’s the easiest thing in the world, the whole crew whistling and some gasps when the poses were getting spicy. Everyone’s eyes were glued to them, except for Osamu, teeth clenched and averting his eyes away, anywhere from the photoshoot.

“Rin’s really good right? It doesn’t even take an expert to know he knows how to work his body.” Kuroo places a chair next to him and takes a seat, fixing his sunglasses up to his head.

“Yeah…”

“But Ami-san’s incredible too. We like pairing them up, they work together well.”

“I see.”

Osamu tried to keep the bitter in his tone at bay, it felt like he bit into fresh cardamom and it stays in his tongue, he thought he hid it pretty well, but little did he know Kuroo is very good at picking up things.

“Oho? Is somebody jealous?”

“Why would I be?” He grips his glass tighter.

“You’re not looking at Suna there”

“Should I be starin’ at him all the time?”

Kuroo chuckles, hands up defensively, “Aight, aight, I’m just messing with you. I know you guys aren’t a thing, just joking around.”

Right, he and Suna aren’t a thing, they’re not boyfriends. He’s free to do whatever he wants to do, he can too. _Get a fucking grip, Osamu._

The photoshoot ends soon after, the crew thanks everybody for their hard work and the whole set packs up. Oikawa runs to Iwaizumi and jumps on him, Iwaizumi catching him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Suna walks behind him, makeup and hair still on, but he’s back to his sweats and t-shirt combo.

“You and Rin-chan wanna go grab food together? Iwa-chan knows a good onigiri place here. It’s super good.”

Osamu beams at the thought of an onigiri place and truthfully, he is starving. He wonders if most photoshoots prepare food on set, or it’s mostly just snacks and drinks like this particular one. He thinks that’s probably for the best for the models to keep their weight in check, though not the healthiest, he assumes.

“Onigiri sounds really good now.”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ starving.” Iwaizumi says, walking towards their car with Oikawa still clinging onto him like a panda. Suna catches up with Osamu, and walks next to him.

“If you’re wondering if that’s normal, yes, that’s normal.” Suna explains, like he knows what Osamu is thinking. He nods.

“That’s very cute.” Osamu says mindlessly, eyes glued to the couple, failing to notice Suna eyeing him from his side.

The drive to the onigiri place isn’t far as they drive there with separate cars, Kuroo following as well. They were lucky enough to get a table for them as the restaurant is packed with customers, ordered their choices and munched the rice balls as soon as it was placed on their table. It’s super obvious everybody is famished, but Osamu takes his time to savour each flavour, typing in his phone on some notes. The others think it’s funny how Osamu takes work everywhere, but he assures them it eases his workload by a great amount, and he takes any opportunity coming his way.

“How do you keep in shape, Samu-chan? I refuse to believe you don’t do any exercise with the amount of food you eat daily” Oikawa pouts, poking at his onigiri.

“I fortunately have a good metabolism, but I do go for several walks when I have the time” _If you don’t count the sex as exercise though,_ he thinks, but he’s never going to say that out loud.

“Ah~ must be nice. Iwa-chan keeps forcing me to go to the gym every evening to keep my shape.”

“It’s literally for you to keep your job” Iwaizumi deadpans.

“Isn’t my beautiful face enough for model work? I can just do close ups and be done with it”

“You’re such a narcissist”

“Rin-chan! Back me up here!” Oikawa whines.

“Nah I’m good, I’m with Iwazumi-san on this one”

Oikawa gasps dramatically, pointing at Suna claiming ‘traitor’ while the rest of the group laughs. Osamu thinks this is nice, he hasn’t had a group of friends in a while so a change of company doesn’t seem so bad.

“Speaking of pretty faces, the waitress and the waiter there keeps looking at us.” Kuroo says in a lower voice, pointing subtly to the counter, “let’s bet who they’re looking at.”

Osamu took a quick glance to the side, sure enough they’re looking their way. He isn’t so surprised since two good looking models are sitting together, they probably recognise Suna or Oikawa. While the group is bickering on who would win, one of the waiters comes towards them, Kuroo abruptly shushing everyone.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but,” he slips a paper on the table, “one of the waiters asks to give this to you.”

They look at the paper sliding on the table like a predator watching their prey’s every move. And it stops, right in front of Osamu.

Kuroo whistles, Iwaizumi chuckling while Oikawa gawks for the second time that day. Osamu looks at the paper, then at the waiter, who bows and leaves them just as quick. 

“Who would’ve thought, our food critic here gets the attention” Kuroo teases, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“That happens a lot?” Suna asks, voice a little lower, eyes looking at the piece of paper on the table. Osamu laughs softly, taking the paper and fiddles with it.

“Yeah, more times than I care ‘bout.” Another whistling from Kuroo and Iwaizumi, “It doesn’t affect my review though, so it doesn’t bother me at all.”

“That actually reminds me, why are you single, Miya-san?” Kuroo asks, taking a quick glance at Suna.

Now everyone’s eyes lock on him, even Suna. He hates this question and it’s one he gets the most. It’s a harmless question, everyone would get them at their age, it’s normal. But he’s loathing the potential questions that bombards right after. Atsumu once said, of course he’ll get this question because they’re twins and he knows for a fact he looks hot, so Osamu is too.

But that’s just Atsumu speaking, so he’s not taking any weight from it.

“Hm, no time for it.” He lies.

“Huh, what a liar.”

“Oikawa’s got a point. You’re handsome dude, even the waitress there gave you her number willingly.” Kuroo says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Osamu laughs, dismissing their comments. The duo still presses on the topic, now squabbling about Osamu’s type and asking him what he thinks of the waitress. Osamu only chuckles at the sight, it’s so entertaining and he likes it, reminds him of his younger days with his twin. Now he feels sorry for his mother for having two annoying sons.

“Does it matter if he’s single or not?” Suna suddenly voices out. “Let’s not talk about it”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” Osamu reassures them, but Oikawa and Kuroo have stopped talking, but only a smirk plasters on Kuroo’s face. He takes a good look at Suna, and decides to not say anything. Not when Kuroo notices a twinge of irritation in those eyes and the slight clenching of his jaw. Osamu doesn’t seem to notice it, so he leaves it that way.

After they’re done, everyone bids goodbye and drives back home. It’s going to be another hour more drive back to their house, and Osamu feels his eyes slowly getting heavier.

“Do you call them?” Suna asks, waking Osamu up.

“Call who?”

“Phone numbers you get from people.”

Osamu reaches for his pocket, the crinkled paper in his hands, “no, I don’t plan on callin’ random strangers.”

Suna didn’t say anything, all throughout the drive home, and if Osamu wasn’t too tired, he’d be feeling a bit confused but, he lets the weight on his lids close his eyes and sleeps.

Osamu feels nauseous, something in his gut threatens to spill out as he holds it in staring at the plate presented on his table.

Is this some kind of a joke? Are there cameras around?

He pokes the meat with his fork, it looks absolutely revolting. He cuts the awful attempt of a roasted beef in half, hopeful that it might just be an ugly looking dish but has a good taste. And he was disappointed. 

Pink flesh bright in the middle, so raw he could hear the meat mooing. Overcooked, almost burnt to a crisp exterior, but it seemed like it was soaked in a tub of artificial butter oil or some sort of fat that lurks in the back of the refrigerator for months to rot. The soggy vegetables looked sad sitting next to an equally sorrowful piece of garlic bread, an odd combination, but it doesn’t surprise him.

There’s no way I’m eating this, he thinks. But he takes small bites of each section, tiny bites, and yet he couldn't swallow it. This has got to be a prank, there’s no way their food would be this bad, not when this restaurant is famous and has a good rating in most food websites. He called the waiter, showing them that his meat was raw, and waited for another 20 minutes for a new dish only for it to arrive that looks exactly the same; both outer and the inner part, but this time the center is cold. He sighs.

He walks out of the restaurant after paying for his untouched food, disappointed and dejected for an unsuccessful food criticizing day. It usually is a joy to him, his job and the ritual process from finding a place, planning the trip, sitting down and studying the menu, eating and savouring the tastes of chew. But there are times these things happen, and Osamu really couldn’t help but feel extra sad.

He goes home, plopping himself onto his bed and calls Atsumu.

_“Hey”_

“Do ya remember the time we went to this shady store that sells these cheap ramen that we thought was a steal cause we used our money to buy a volleyball back in high school?”

_“Fuck I’m getting flashbacks, I honestly thought I could’ve died of food poisoning”_

“Guess fucking what, I found a place even worst than that.”

This has been a routine for him whenever he finds a bad restaurant, calling Atsumu to shit on it because he knows for a fact that his brother will never judge him in any of his choices, albeit sometimes he will scream at him for choosing mint chocolate chip instead of regular chocolate chip ice cream, but never shit on him for most things. He’s the most comfortable being himself with his brother, and nothing’s going to change that.

He puts his brother on speaker, placing the phone on the dining table as he types in his draft for the restaurant, putting in words from Atsumu’s weird but interesting vocabulary to his sentences to make it funny. Sometimes when he hates something so much, he ends up being more passionate in writing it, thus he ends up with 5 pages worth of drafts and 2 hours worth of call with his twin brother.

“Like chef Gordon Ramsey putting the bread on the girl’s fa—“

_Ding dong!_

Osamu hears the bell rang, and looks at the time.

 _“Who’s that?”_ Atsumu asks. Oh he does not want his brother to know Suna comes to his house for sex.

“I don't know, I’ll talk to you later, bye.”

Osamu ends the call without waiting for Atsumu’s reply, and walks to open the door, welcoming a smiling Suna with two bags of food.

“I got us cakes!” He claims, opening his shoes before entering the house and to the kitchen easily. He places the bags on the dining table, setting the cakes one by one, talking about how he saw a bakery on the way back from his shoot.

Osamu repressed his thoughts about how domestic this all feels, and how wonderful it’ll feel to have a lover coming back home, bringing food and talking about their day at work.

Atsumu’s face comes to mind, he shoves it away.

He sits down and listens to Suna while replying to Atsumu’s bombarding text messages.

“Oh? N Restaurant? You’re doing a review on N Restaurant?” Suna asks, slouching to his opened laptop screen.

“Yeah, ya know the place?”

“Kuroo got me a contract for being the restaurant’s brand commercial ambassador of some sort” he says, still reading the screen, “he said something about the place being… really… goo… Osamu what’s this?”

Osamu turns from his phone, and he cocks his head, “I went there the other day for work, so I’m doin’ a review on it.”

“ _‘If I had the option of eating a cheeseburger that I found weeping underneath a high school table without knowing how long it’s been or eating this dish, I wouldn’t hesitate going for the burger.’_ Wow, that bad?” Osamu didn’t notice the change of tone in Suna’s voice.

“I thought I was goin’ to puke. Can ya believe the meat was raw? To make it worse, the replacement for the raw meat I got was cold meat. I have no idea how this place got so many recommendations.”

“Huh.”

Suna’s voice turns an octave lower, Osamu is aware. “Why?”

“What happens when you post this review?”

“It depends.”

Suna squints, “On what”

“On how established the restaurant is”

“This one is pretty big.” Osamu shrugs, “And what happens to big restaurants?”

“My reviews are mostly taken seriously, the place gets bad impressions, less customers, worst case scenarios out of business but that rarely ever happens”

“I forgot you’re such a big shot in your field of work.” Suna looks away from the laptop, and continues to set the cake. Osamu takes note of Suna's sudden change of demeanor.

“Okay? What’s up wit ya?”

Suna stops and lets out a deep sigh, “Can you not publish this review?”

“What?” Osamu scoffs, trying to find any signs of him joking but found none, “If yer makin’ a joke, I don’t see where the punchline is.”

“I’m not joking” Suna deadpans. 

“Dude, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my literal job?”

“To tear down famous up and coming restaurants?”

His eyebrows rose and mouth fell open. “To see whether or not the place serves good food as they advertise them to be? That’s what a food critic is supposed to do.”

“If you post this and the place gets a bad rep, it would automatically affect me as their ambassador as well. I’ll be the one promoting this restaurant everywhere”

“And what d’ya want me to do? It’s not my fault the food was shit?”

“Not publishing this?” 

“It’s work, I can’t just not do work.”

“Alright, then don’t say the food’s bad”

Osamu’s jaw drops. “You seriously didn’t ask me to lie on a review?”

“It’s a white lie, don’t have to say the food is bad, just go around the bush, and not start with you saying you’d rather eat a rotten burger under a high school table” Suna points to the laptop screen.

“That’s called ‘lying’.”

“Well, fuck, my reputation’s gonna go down to shit then. Thanks a lot, Samu.”

“And you thought me, a critic, _lying_ , would be okay?”

“Well I thought you cared about me”

Osamu pauses, and his eyes widen at the realisation of what Suna said.

“No, you... don’t you do that, we’re not dating”

Suna cocks his eyebrow, and Osamu knows where this is going. No, Suna cannot do this to him.

“Fuck you Suna” he spits, unconciously standing up from his chair.

“Did I read the room wrong again? I could’ve sworn I’m right this time.” Suna cocks his head, eyes never leave Osamu’s and it burns right straight to his soul.

“I—“

“You don’t?”

He does.

“Or are you scared?”

Osamu’s brain flashes to Atsumu, his mother, he thought about the faces of the two people he loved the most in this world, and how love broke both of them. He’s not scared, he’s terrified, he feels guilt drowning him, he knows it will give nothing but pain.

And right now anger swells in his body.

“Take that back”

Suna takes a step towards Osamu from around the table, “I understand you care about Atsumu but--—”

“But nothin’, he’s the only brother that I got and ya don’t have a say in any of them.”

“And yet you’re wasting away what you want your life to be” 

“That- that’s not true.”

Suna’s now in front of him, mouth set in a hard line, knowing god damn well Osamu’s denying every truth that Suna speaks. His hands raise to hold the other’s shoulder, but Osamu swats it away immediately.

“Osamu—“

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Suna. And yer the last person in this world who could talk about my feelings.” Osamu’s voice starts to tremble, eyes darting away. Suna’s brows knitted, studying his face.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh don’t pretend like ya don’t know yer toying around my feelings for ya.” He scoffs, almost chuckling, “God I can’t believe I’m bringing this up”

“What are you talking about?”

“High school, by the stairs to the gym,” Osamu feels his chest tightening, “Don’t fucking pretend ya don’t remember shit.”

High school, by the stairs to the gym, late evening after clubs. The sun was setting, the orange hue illuminates Suna’s face so beautifully, the air was perfectly warm, but cooling enough to not feel sticky. But alas, he remembered just how painful everything was when the taller boy’s eyes went round, expression hardening at Osamu’s words, no reply.

Osamu closes his eyes, god that was painful. “I know ya remember that, Suna.”

“I do”

“So it’s fun? Being able to play with my feelings for yer benefit?”

Suna’s jaw clenches, shaking his head, “Osamu I didn’t think what happened 12 years ago would still affect you right now.”

“I was terrified, it took everything of me to confess to ya on that day ya fuck!” Osamu pushes him, walking away to the living room, Suna following behind. “And ya left without telling me a word, and now yer here, actin’ like whatever happened before didn’t matter. How the fuck does that make me feel?”

“I didn’t, you didn’t mention it to me either, so how would I know what you feel?” 

Osamu fists his hand, “But ya knew, ya know I like ya, and ya have the audacity to use it against me now?”

Osamu turns to look at Suna, eyes deep and expression unreadable, standing just an arm away yet it feels like miles apart.

Just like that day.

He hates it, he hates how the face that’s staring at him right now gives both pain and pleasure to him, hates how he looks so goddamn good, hates how he thinks he could use him for his own benefit.

It’s not fair.

“Don’t pretend as if you’re the victim here, I asked if you’re okay with this multiple times”

“Shut up, Suna”

It’s not fair.

“You were okay with me flirting with you,” Suna takes a step closer towards him, “You kissed me back, you hold my hand”

“Ya know I liked ya, and yer usin’ it against me”

“No I’m not”

“Then why the fuck are ya bringin’ this up when ya know I’m writing about the place yer promotin’? No better time for a ‘confession’?”

“Fuck, Samu! I’ve liked you since fucking high school!”

Osamu froze, his heart sinking deeper, no Suna cannot do this to him right now, this isn’t a good time, please Suna anything but that now. “Don’t, shut up”

“That day I didn’t even know my parents were moving, I didn’t even get to say anything before you ran away.”

“Suna stop” His eyes wide, terror evident in them.

“Trust me, I’ve like you for a goddamn long ass time, and now you’re scared to accept it”

“I said stop,”

“Why the fuck are you scared for, isn’t this what you wanted too? You like me, I’m telling you I like you too!”

“SHUT UP!” Osamu fists Suna’s shirt, yanking him nearer, “whatever you feel about me won’t change a goddamn thing about it, I am writing that fucking review whether ya like it or not.”

“Then you’re a fucking pussy, Samu.” Suna cocks his head up, eyes challenging and not backing up, “I dare you to say I’m wrong, go ahead and run away”

Their eyes burn into each other, anger, rage, lust, want, fire lit up staring into each other’s eyes, Osamu’s fist trembles in Suna’s shirt, he feels like punching him, his face, his chest, anywhere. He hates how Suna’s right, he likes him, he knows he likes Suna and he knows he’s damn scared to do anything about it.

_It’s not fair._

He yanks him in, crushing his lips to Suna.

Suna pushes Osamu to the wall, grabbing Osamu’s hands away from his shirt and locking both his wrists above his head, a knee between his thighs pressing the hard tent through his pants. Osamu quickly chases his lips again, kissing feverishly, yet sloppy. He takes in Osamu’s moans, and shoving his tongue into the wet cavern at the chance, wincing at the way the blue haired man bites his tongue down, hard. He tastes the metallic liquid oozing out, eyes locking to the other.

“You want to do this the hard way, Samu?”

“I’d like to see ya try”

In one swift motion, Suna picks him up by the back of his thighs, carrying him to Osamu’s room, lips still ravishing to each other like wild animals. The brunette tosses him to the bed harshly, falling hard on the bed. Osamu looks up to him, angry, hurt, scrutinizing at the way those emerald eyes are burning with lust and rage, he couldn’t differentiate it anymore, but the bulge in both their pants says otherwise.

Osamu props up on all fours, facing directly to the evident tent of Suna’s crotch and unzips the fly, grabbing a hold of it and putting it in his mouth whole. It’s what he always does when they have sex, and he enjoys giving blowjobs generally. But today he’s angry, no, he’s truly mad. He bites it down, hard enough for Suna to hiss loudly, hands quickly tugging to Osamu’s hair back sharply.

“Two can play that game, Samu dear”

He recoils, forcefully pushing Osamu back to bed and crawls on top him, knees to his shoulder, steadying with the balls of his feet. He pins Osamu’s wrists above his head again, and shoves his cock right into his mouth without warning. He thrusts, in and out frantically to the back of Osamu’s throat, hitting it mercilessly, the room filled with the wet slurping sounds.

Suna glances down, eyes locking to Osamu’s wet teary ones, and pushes in deep. He throws his head back, almost dizzy at his dick warm engulfed whole. Osamu couldn’t hold it in and gags out the dick, a string of saliva connecting from the tip to his red, swollen lips.

“Couldn’t take it?” Suna teases

“I hate ya so much” Osamu growls, turning and pushing Suna down on his back so now he’s on top of him, looking down at the way he moans so deliciously as he grinds his bulge over Suna’s exposed cock. He suppresses his own moans, but god it feels so fucking good, like electricity running down his spine.

He takes Suna’s hand; oh he loves his long, bony hands but looking at it now makes him burn with anger, and sucks on his fore and middle finger fully, not breaking eye contact with Suna. His tongue swirls and dances around the digit, expression so lewd but eyes challenging. Suna scoffs, the other hand moving to open the zipper of Osamu’s pants.

Osamu smacks it away, “Don’t fuckin’ touch me”

It continues for more minutes, too long for Suna’s liking and his dick is painfully hard. He knows Osamu is taunting him, and playing fire with fire. He reaches his hands out to the drawer by the side of the bed, blindly grabbing the bottle of lube and a foil pack out, eyes never leaving Osamu’s, he’s never one to back up from provocation.

The blue haired man bites of his fingers, harder when Suna tries to pull away, and lifts his legs one by one as he wiggles out from his pants and boxers. The fingers are so wet from saliva, Suna’s dick twitches as Osamu sucks them erotically.

He opens his mouth, leaving the fingers saturated between them, and dips down to the crook of Suna’s neck, his butt exposed up in the air. He starts sucking on the skin, biting hard intentionally to leave purples and blues, and gasps as Suna shoves in two fingers at once, straight away thrusting and fucking Osamu’s hole. The moans he let out were loud, and he felt ashamed at how easy it was for him to be aroused, those long fingers hitting the spot almost instantaneously.

“You say you hate me and yet you love it when I finger fuck you” Suna’s breaths were hot on Osamu’s ears, “your hole’s clenching like it wants it so bad”

“Then why don’t ya shut yer mouth and— _ah—_ fuck me like ya mean it”

Suna rolls around, pinning Osamu down and forces another finger in, thrusting and curling in every angle, purposely avoiding the bundle of nerves and it’s making Osamu irritated. It hurts, it feels so good, he hates it, he wants it so bad. Suna’s other hand grabs Osamu’s hair, tugging it back to expose his neck. He whines, confused at the pain that’s arousing him.

Suna went straight to his neck, biting back in revenge. He wants to mark every skin there is on Osamu’s pale complexion, he wants it to be seen so clear, he wants it to be so dark it’ll stay for weeks. Osamu whimpers, struggling away from the grip of his hair.

“Stay fucking still” Suna growls.

“It fuckin’ hurts”

“Too bad”

Suna sucks, and bites, and moves to another patch of skin, and bites, and sucks, and repeats, all while his fingers scissoring and opening in and out, stretching it wide. Osamu’s hands are gripping to the sheets, his face contorting between pain and pleasure, gasping breathlessly.

Suna takes the condom pack and tears it open with his mouth, hands still skillfully fucking Osamu. Placing it onto his dick, smirking as their eyes lock.

“I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already such a mess.”

“Ya t-talk a lot for someone who doesn’t explain himself” Osamu squirms under the stare, but not without putting up a fight.

He gives a half-smile, pulling out his fingers and pours lube all over his dick. Osamu props himself up with his elbows, turning around and presents his butt to Suna.

“What’s this, so eager to be fucked?” He squeezes the cheek, “aww you’re trembling. Getting impatient now?”

Osamu shoots an annoyed eye back over his shoulder, gritting his teeth, “I don’t wanna see yer fuckin face, don’t get too cocky” 

Suna places his penis between his cheeks, teasing the hole, “In denial, that’s such a bad habit of yours Samu”

Osamu screams as he feels his hole being split open, his knuckles turning white latching onto the bed sheets and fighting back tears. Suna grunts as he goes deeper, and deeper, until all of him disappears in Osamu, his breath hot and humid on Osamu’s neck.

“Imagine how great it’d be if we could do this forever” Suna purrs at the shell of Osamu’s ears, his low voice sending shiver down his spine, Suna drawing back almost all the way out and pushes back in, “but you’re too afraid of commitment, too scared to live your own fucking life”

“F-fuck you Suna, I fucking hate you”

Suna trusts in and out fast, picking up a rhythm so delicious Osamu couldn’t help but bury his face into the bed, holding on to the headboard for dear life, pushing his back at the same time Suna pushes. He hisses, hands wrapping around Osamu’s waist, and retaliates even harder, the sound of skin slapping getting louder with every movement.

“You hated me right? You don’t like it when I confess to you, right? Scared Atsumu will be sad that you found somebody you like, huh?”

“Why d-don’t you work your dick hard- _ngh,_ harder than your mouth? You— _fuck ah_ — I don’t fuckin feel shit”

Osamu yelps when the grip on his waist turns him around, his back on the bed sheet, his left leg propped on Suna’s shoulders, leaving him exposed wide open.

“Suna wait—“

It’s so good, it’s so painful. It hurts so bad, Osamu wants more.

He moans, he gasps, pain and pleasure mushing together, and Suna’s breaths get harder.

“Harder.” Osamu commands, “fuck me like ya mean it”

Suna hunches over, changing his angle and thrusts even harder than before. Osamu wails rings around the room, his hands instantaneously moving up to Suna’s shoulder blades, clawing them for some sort of support. Suna’s growl low and deep, his face just inches away from Osamu’s.

Those eyes are burning with desire, and it pins Osamu down. He closes his eyes shut, his whole body feels like it’s on fire, every touch burns his skin. He—

“Fuck, ah, _fuck_!”

Suna’s mouth twitches, he knows he hits the jackpot. “You like that? You like when I fuck you here?”

Osamu feels like dying when Suna keeps hitting his prostate over and over again, pleasure taking his whole body, it feels like he’s no longer in control. His eyes are wet, his fingertips numb and his throat dry. 

The hand on his thighs tightens, his movements faster. He’s close, he can feel it.

“ _Harder_ ” his mouth open, saliva streaming down his cheeks. He’s so close his dick is throbbing, left neglected for so long. “C-close”

Suna pauses for two seconds, propping both his legs up on his shoulder and pushes down, balls deep. He grunts, and sticks his fingers on one hand into Osamu’s mouth, the other wrapping around Osamu’s dick.

“Suck.”

He bites them first instead, then sucking hard his cheeks wallow. Suna growls low, his hand pumping Osamu’s cock fast and hard, as he moves his hips steadily.

It took only a few seconds before Osamu cums, milky white liquid spilling all over his torso as he shudders from his orgasm, sobbing Suna’s name. His muscles clenches involuntarily, and Suna curses from the sudden tightness, fucking a few more times before he came, moaning softly as his condom filled with his own cum.

Osamu catches his breath, grunting low when Suna pulls out, and flops on the side of the bed, breathing heavy.

And then it went quiet.

Excruciating silence.

It was awkward as all hell, Osamu didn’t dare to breathe not to make any sudden movements. The beating of his heart is loud and clear, and Suna’s breathings filled the room. It felt like hours, and nobody said anything. The room smelled like sex but so heavy he couldn’t breathe.

Osamu sits up, and Suna does too at the same time. They look at each other, surprised, but look away just as quickly. Suna stands up first, taking off and throwing out the condom, picking up his clothes and wearing them one by one. 

“Let’s stop this.” Osamu says, eyes looking away. He sees Suna pausing for a split second before continuing putting on his pants. A soft chuckle, and then belt.

“Not surprised.” The sound of crisp material of Suna’s shirt fills the room, “Clearly we can’t have sex anymore now that both our feelings are in the open, and your job is about to ruin mine. I don’t blame you, it is what it is.”

“Suna that’s not it—“

“I like you, Osamu, I really do. But you’re never going to find love if you’re never going to move on.”

Suna walks out of the room, leaving Osamu alone in his bed with the sound of the front door shutting close.

It’s the beginning of Summer, and it’s been almost close to a month of him smelling the citrus scented candles of Atsumu’s living room. The window lets in the bright sunlight and is decorated with brilliant blue skies, and the cup of iced tea cools off his sweaty hands.

Atsumu sips his tea quietly on the other chair, observing his twin brother through the rim of his cup. Almost a month of not going to a single restaurant and eating Atsumu’s sub-par cookings. It’s strange, and Atsumu is dying to know what happened.

Especially when Osamu came unnotified, eyes dark and neck bruised like he was attacked by some animal. He pestered his brother for an explanation, but Osamu didn’t answer, and he thinks it might be one of the few times he should shut his mouth.

Two birds land on the bird feeder of Atsumu’s DIY project, and both men stare at them.

“I can’t believe birds actually go near yer ugly lookin’ bird feeder” Atsumu almost spits his tea out at the sudden attack.

“At least I have one, and they’re working perfectly fine!”

Osamu rolls his eyes, and another moment of silence between them aside from the chirping from the window sill.

“Ya know, love scares me.”

Atsumu’s cup hangs midway in the air, he stares at Osamu’s side profile.

“That’s a first.”

“Yer relationship with yer ex made it even scarier.” Osamu says, voice low.

“Samu ya know not every marriage is like that—“

“Ma’s too.”

“Okay, sure mine and ma’s went to shit but not everyon— wait. What happened.”

Osamu sighs, and decides his brother should at least know, since he stayed here rent free. He told him everything; from high school, the moment he and Suna met, to the first night, Christmas at the Miya’s and what happened afterwards. He was never one to share his problems, he used to think people would find it a burden, and yet everything spills out like water as Atsumu sits silently listening to everything he has to say without cutting him off. Atsumu moves to sit next to him.

“So, now… I’m not sure what to do.” Osamu ends it, eyes meeting his brother’s golden ones.

Atsumu places his cup on the side table, lifting his feet on the chair sitting cross legged. “Ya like him, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“And yer very comfortable bein’ with him?”

“Yea but Tsu-“

“And ya feel like ya can open up and be yerself with Suna?”

Osamu sighs, rubbing his cheeks with his palms, “I feel guilty, actually.”

“Guilty?” Atsumu raises a brow, and then realisation dawns on his face. “Yer saying that yer guilty that ya found love because me and ma are divorcees?”

Osamu sighs once more at the way Atsumu frowns.

“Samu, ya don’t have to worry about me, or ma. We’re likely to be happier than we’ll ever be if yer happy too. Ya’ve been for me for the longest time and honestly it’s gettin’ annoyin’ so ya really should get a partner soon”

Atsumu nudges him, and they both laugh at his lame jokes. Osamu smiles, and thanks him.

“Don’t worry about me, Samu. In fact, I’m actually pretty a okay now,” Osamu gives him a side eye, “I swear! I’m totally okay now!”

Atsumu gives his award winning grin, and places a hand on Osamu’s shoulder, “It’s time for ya to think of yer own happiness. Trust me, we’ll be just as happy as ya are.”

“Thanks ‘Tsumu.”

“Besides, I’m actually seein’ someone now.”

Osamu’s eyes turn wide, and smacks his brother’s head automatically. “Ya didn’t have the fuckin’ sense to tell me sooner?”

“Well fuck I didn’t know it’d be serious so I didn’t want to have hope! Fuck yer hands are so fat I think I just had a concussion”

“That’s cause yer brain is so small it has room to bounce in yer head.”

“Piss off!” They laugh, and go back to their comfortable silence. He wants to know who Atsumu is seeing, but now, he has an apology due to a certain model.

The huge poster of Suna modelling for H brand outside the department store building is really intimidating. Sharp eyes enhanced even more with blue eyeliner, his gaze piercing to his soul and it makes him feel like he’s being scrutinised, by a freaking poster. He sighs, it’s been 2 weeks since he left Atsumu’s house and back to Tokyo, and he couldn’t help but chicken out everytime he needs to press the dial button to Suna’s phone number.

He can’t do it.

Fuck, Suna’s right, he is a pussy.

“Oh, Samu?”

He turns around meeting gunmetal blue eyes, “Oh, Keiji. Alone?”

Akaashi nods, fixing his glasses on his nose, “here to run some errands,” he took in the sight of Suna’s modelling poster. “How are you and Suna-san?”

Osamu stiffens, but acts natural. “We’re… fine”

Osamu wishes that Akaashi didn’t hear the split second of him hesitated because he knows Akaashi has a way of telling when Osamu is lying, screw him for being good at knowing how to read people, and him being Osamu’s ex boyfriend doesn’t help either.

“Fine?” His tone suggests that he needs more explanation, “You’ve stayed with Atsumu for a month, I haven’t seen you update your reviews too.” He cocks an eyebrow, “and Kuroo-san said Suna hasn’t been doing good lately. What’s going on?”

Osamu sighs, rubbing his cheeks with his palm, “I kinda fucked everything up.”

Akaashi looks at him apologetically, and places a hand on his shoulder. Osamu continues.

“I screwed up big time, Keiji, and I’m too scared to fix it.”

“Samu, I’ve known you for a while, and you have always been one to overthink your decisions, as if everything has to be perfect. I would know, it takes one to know one,” Akaashi chuckles, patting his shoulders, “but once in a while, ‘fucking everything up’ is good. Because then from there, there’s only going up”

Osamu stares into Akaashi’s eyes, his eyes threatening to pool tears but he fights them back, he doesn’t want to cry in public. He places his hand onto Akaashi’s. 

“Thank you, Keiji, ya’ve always had a way with words.”

“What can I say, I am an _editor_ ”.

Osamu is grateful for Akaashi, and for the second time, he takes his words again.

So when the Suna’s eyes widen when he opens the door to his house, he knows, hopefully, it only goes up from here.

“Osamu?”

“I’m sorry.” He says, firm, hiding his hands fidgeting at the back, but eyes staring straight, “I came to apologise, that’s all.”

Suna stares at him for a few good seconds, and opens the door wider, “Let’s talk inside.”

They walk in, Osamu feeling his heartbeat threatening to jump out of his ribcage, but takes deep breaths in, chanting to himself in his head, you can do this, you can do this, you can do th—

“So? What are you apologising for?”

Osamu stops abruptly, Suna resting his hips on the wall, hands crossed in front of him, eyebrows furrow. He looks scary, Osamu thinks, terribly intimidating but he has to brave himself.

“I came here to apologise to what I did to ya and Kuroo about the review. I heard from my manager that ya took some damage in your social media.”

Suna sighs, “Well, that’s the consequences of this job, don’t worry about it, everything’s fine now.”

Osamu bit his cheeks, he heard the restaurant went to shambles, the people on social media leaving mean comments on Suna’s posts and Kuroo had to make a public apology. It was a mess, but Suna's right. Everything comes with consequences.

“So? Is that all you’re here for?” His voice low and bitter, Osamu could taste it, like bitter gourd on his tongue.

“No, I… I fucked up.” Osamu looks down on the ground, “I know the words I said that night came from a place of guilt and fear, and yer right, I’ve been trying to be a support to my brother for so long that I forget to think about mine. And though I said yer the one using me for yer benefit, I did too, projectin’ my high school crush on ya with our casual sex activities. I didn’t listen to yer explanation, I thought I was right, but I didn’t listen to ya.”

He feels his body shaking, and fists his hands tight he could feel his nails digging deep into his skin. He doesn’t dare to look up, he doesn’t want to know how Suna is looking at him right now.

He fucked up. He said Suna used his feelings to get his way, but he used Suna for his own pleasure.

He fucked up. He thought he was the one with a huge trauma, but he didn’t listen when Suna wanted to explain things.

He fucked up, and his eyes starts to water.

Suna’s feet come into view, but he doesn’t look up.

“Look at me, Osamu.”

His head raises together with the gentle pull of Suna’s hands under his chin, the coarse fingertips lifting him up meeting with the softest eyes and a tender smile. The fingers caresses his chin, moving up to cup his cheeks and he sighs.

“I was wrong too. I shouldn’t have used my emotions against you, and I should’ve picked a better timing to tell my feelings. I thought telling you right there and then would magically turn it into a sappy romantic scene, but I guess that just happens in movies.”

“Ya thought I would drop everything and profess my love to ya and we both ride off into the sunset?”

Suna chuckles, his thumb now caressing his cheeks, “Alright, now you’re making me think I'm overdramatic.”

Osamu closes his eyes, nuzzling his face into Suna’s touch, and places his hand on his. They shared the comfortable silence, the weight in Osamu’s chest slowly dissolving with every move of Suna’s fingers. It feels nice, he feels calm.

“I’m really sorry.” He apologises again. Suna smiles, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry too.” He stares at Osamu, “We were both angry, and it got the better of us."

"Hmm." Osamu hums, content.

"I hope I'm not reading the room wrong again this time, but... I’d like to try again, if that’s okay with you.”

Osamu looks into those green eyes, those same eyes he longs for, yearning for it to look at him the way it is looking at him now, and nods.

“I’d love that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Frog asked for sexy times, and specifically said "I like it extra spicy lol pls go as hard as u want to". I tried my best :'D
> 
> Come scream to [me](https://twitter.com/inarizakillme) how much you love sexy, suave Suna just as much as I do <3


End file.
